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COPYRIGHT,   I909,  BY  BIGELOW,  SMITH  &  CO. 


PRINTED    IN    THE     UNITED    STATES    OF    AMERICA  B 
J.     J.     LITTLE    AND    IVES    COMPANY,     NEW  YORK 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 
THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


All  the  unsigned  footnotes  in  this  volume  are  by  the 
writer  of  the  ardcie  to  which  they  are  appended.  The  in- 
terpretation of  the  initials  signed  to  the  others  is:  I.  G. 
=  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. ;  H.  N.  H.=  Henry  Norman 
Hudson,  A.M. ;  C.  H.  H.=  C.  H.  Herford,  Litt.D. 


PREFACE 


By  Israel  Goelancz,  M.A. 

THE  EARLY  EDITIONS 

The  First  Edition  of  Othello  was  a  Quarto,  published 
in  1622,  with  the  following  title-page: — 

"The  I  Tragoedy  of  Othello,  |  The  Moore  of  Venice,  j 
As  it  hath  beene  diuerse  times  acted  at  the  |  Globe,  and 
at  the  Black-Friers,  by  |  his  Maiesties  Seruants.  \  Written 
by  William  Shakespeare.  |  [Vignette]  |  London,  |  Printed 
by  N.  O.  for  Thomas  Walkley,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  | 
shop,  at  the  Eagle  and  Child,  in  Brittans  Bursse.  |  1622."  1 

In  1623  appeared  the  First  Folio,  containing  Othello 
among  the  "Tragedies"  (pp.  310-339)  ;  the  text,  however, 
was  not  derived  from  the  same  source  as  the  First  Quarto; 
an  independent  MS.  must  have  been  obtained.  In  addition 
to  many  improved  readings,  the  play  as  printed  in  the 
Folio  contained  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  verses  omitted 
in  the  earlier  edition,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  ten  or  fif- 
teen lines  in  the  Quarto  were  not  represented  in  the  folio 
version.  Thomas  Walkley  had  not  resigned  his  interest  in 
the  play ;  it  is  clear  from  the  Stationers'  Register  that  it 

i  Prefixed  to  this  First  Quarto  were  the  following  lines : — 
"The  Stationer  to  the  Reader. 

"To  set  forth  a  booke  without  an  Epistle,  were  like  to  the  old  Eng- 
lish prouerbe,  A  blew  coat  without  a  badge,  the  Author  being  dead, 
I  thought  good  to  take  that  piece  of  worke  upon  mee:  To  commend 
it,  I  will  not,  for  that  which  is  good,  I  hope  euery  man  will  com- 
mend, without  intreaty :  and  I  am  the  bolder,  because  the  author's 
name  is  sufficient  to  vent  his  worke.  Thus  leaning  euery  one  to  the 
liberty  of  iudgement;  I  haue  ventered  to  print  this  play,  and  leaue 
it  to  the  generall  censure.    Yours,  Thomas  Walkley. ' 

vii 


Preface 


OTHELLO 


remained  his  property  until  March  1,  1627  (i.  e.  1628) 
when  he  assigned  "Orthello  the  More  of  Venice"  unto 
Richard  Hawkins,  who  issued  the  Second  Quarto  in  1630. 
A  Third  Quarto  appeared  in  1655 ;  and  later  Quartos  in 
1681,  1687,  1695. 

The  text  of  modern  editions  of  the  play  is  based 
on  that  of  the  First  Folio,  though  it  is  not  denied  that 
we  have  in  the  First  Quarto  a  genuine  play-house  copy ; 
a  notable  difference,  pointing  to  the  Quarto  text  as  the 
older,  is  its  retention  of  oaths  and  asseverations,  which  are 
omitted  or  toned  down  in  the  Folio  version. 

DATE   OF  COMPOSITION 

I 

This  last  point  has  an  important  bearing  on  the  date  of 
the  play,  for  it  proves  that  Othello  was  written  before  the 
Act  of  Parliament  was  issued  in  1606  against  the  abuse 
of  the  name  of  God  in  plays.  External  and  internal  evi- 
dence seem  in  favor  of  1604,  as  the  birth-year  of  the  trag- 
edy, and  this  date  has  been  generally  accepted  since  the 
publication  of  the  Variorum  Shakespeare  of  1821,  wherein 
Malone's  views  in  favor  of  that  year  were  set  forth  (Ma- 
lone  had  died  nine  years  before  the  work  appeared). 
After  putting  forward  various  theories,  he  added: — "We 
know  it  was  acted  in  1604,  and  I  have  therefore  placed  it 
in  that  year."  For  twenty  years  scholars  sought  in  vain 
to  discover  upon  what  evidence  he  knew  this  important 
fact,  until  at  last  about  the  year  1840  Peter  Cunningham 
announced  his  discovery  of  certain  Accounts  of  the  Revels 
at  Court,  containing  the  following  item: — 

"By  the  King's  'Hallamas  Day,  being  the  first  of  Nov, 
Matis  Plaiers.  A  play  at  the  bankettinge  House  att 

Whitehall,  called  the  Moor  of  Venis  [1604].'"  i 

We  now  know  that  this  manuscript  was  a  forgery,  but 
strange  to  say  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  though 
"the  book"  itself  is  spurious,  the  information  which  it 

i  v.  Shakespeare  Society  Publications,  1842. 
viii 


THE  MOOR 


Preface 


yields  is  genuine,  and  that  Malone  had  some  such  entry 
in  his  possession  when  he  wrote  his  emphatic  statement 
(vide  Grant  White's  account  of  the  whole  story,  quoted  in 
Furness'  Variorum  edition;  cp.  pp.  351-357). 

The  older  school  of  critics,  and  Malone  himself  at  first, 
assigned  the  play  to  circa  1611  on  the  strength  of  the  lines, 
III,  iv,  46,  47:— 

"The  hearts  of  old  gave  hands; 
But  our  new  heraldry  is  hands,  not  hearts," 

which  seemed  to  be  a  reference  to  the  arms  of  the  order 
of  Baronets,  instituted  by  King  James  in  1611 ;  Malone, 
however,  in  his  later  edition  of  the  play  aptly  quoted  a  pas- 
sage from  the  Essays  of  Sir  Wm.  Cornwallis,  the  younger, 
published  in  1601,  which  may  have  suggested  the  thought 
to  Shakespeare: — "They  (our  forefathers)  had  wont  to 
give  their  hands  and  their  hearts  together,  but  we  think  it 
a  finer  grace  to  look  asquint,  our  hand  looking  one  way, 
and  our  heart  another." 

THE   ORIGINAL  OF  OTHELLO 

From  the  elegy  on  the  death  of  Richard  Burbage  in  the 
year  1618,  it  appears  that  the  leading  character  of  the 
play  was  assigned  to  this  most  famous  actor: — 

"But  let  me  not  forget  one  chiefest  part 
Wherein,  beyond  the  rest,  he  mov'd  the  heart, 
The  grieved  Moor,  made  jealous  by  a  slave, 
Who  sent  his  wife  to  fill  a  timeless  grave, 
Then  slew  himself  upon  the  bloody  bed. 
All  these  and  many  more  with  him  are  dead."  i 

THE   SOURCE   OF   THE  PLOT 

The  story  of  II  Moro  di  Venezia  was  taken  from  the 
Heccatommithi  of  the  Italian  novelist  Giraldi  Cinthio ;  it 
is  the  seventh  tale  of  the  third  decade,  which  deals  with 
"The  unfaithfulness  of  Husbands  and  Wives/'    No  Eng- 

iv.  Ingleby's  Centurie  of  Prayse  (New  Shak.  Soc),  2nd  edition, 
p.  131,  where  the  elegy  is  discussed,  and  a  truer  version  printed. 

•  iv 


Preface 


OTHELLO 


lish  translation  of  the  novel  existed  in  Shakespeare's  time 
(at  least  we  know  of  none),  but  a  French  translation  ap- 
peared in  the  year  1584,  and  through  this  medium  the 
work  may  have  come  to  England.  Cinthio's  novel  may 
have  been  of  Oriental  origin,  and  in  its  general  character 
it  somewhat  resembles  the  tale  of  The  Three  Apples  in 
The  Thousand  and  One  Nights;  on  the  other  hand  it  has 
been  ingeniously  maintained  that  "a  certain  Christophal 
Moro,  a  Luogotenente  di  Cipro,  who  returned  from  Cyprus 
in  1508,  after  having  lost  his  wife,  was  the  original  of 
the  Moor  of  Venice  of  Giraldi  Cinthio."  "Fronting  the 
summit  of  the  Giants'  Stair,"  writes  Mr.  Rawdon  Brown, 
the  author  of  this  theory,  "where  the  Doges  of  Venice 
were  crowned,  there  are  still  visible  four  shields  spotted 
with  mulberries  (strawberries  in  the  description  of  Des- 
demona's  handkerchief),  indicating  that  that  part  of  the 
palace  portal  on  which  they  are  carved  was  terminated  in 
the  reign  of  Christopher  Moro,  whose  insignia  are  three 
mulberries  sable  and  three  bends  azure  on  a  field  argent ; 
the  word  Moro  signifying  in  Italian  either  mulberry-tree 
or  blackamoor."  Perhaps  Shakespeare  learned  the  true 
story  of  his  Othello  from  some  of  the  distinguished  Vene- 
tians in  England;  "Cinthio's  novel  would  never  have  suf- 
ficed him  for  his  Othello"  1  (vide  Furness,  pp.  372-389). 
Knowing,  however,  Shakespeare's  transforming  power,  we 
may  well  maintain  that,  without  actual  knowledge  of  Chris- 
topher Moro's  history,  he  was  capable  of  creating  Othello 
from  Cinthio's  savage  Moor,  Iago  from  the  cunning  cow- 
ardly ensign  of  the  original,  the  gentle  lady  Desdemona 
from  "the  virtuous  lady   of  marvelous  beauty,  named 

1  The  title  of  the  novel  summarizes  its  contents  as  follows: — 
"A  Moorish  Captain  takes  to  wife  a  Venetian  Dame,  and  his 
Ancient  accuses  her  of  adultery  to  her  husband:  it  is  planned  that 
the  Ancient  is  to  kill  him  whom  he  believes  to  be  the  adulterer;  the 
Captain  kills  the  woman,  is  accused  by  the  Ancient,  the  Moor  does 
not  confess,  but  after  the  infliction  of  extreme  torture,  is  banished; 
and  the  wicked  Ancient,  thinking  to  injure  others,  provided  for  him- 
self a  miserable  death." 


s 


THE  MOOR 


Preface 


Disdemona  (i.  e.  'the  hapless  one'),"  1  who  is  beaten  to 
death  "with  a  stocking  filled  with  sand,"  Cassio  and  Emilia 
from  the  vaguest  possible  outlines.  The  tale  should  be 
read  side  by  side  with  the  play  by  such  as  desire  to  study 
the  process  whereby  a  not  altogether  artless  tale  of  hor- 
ror2 has  become  the  subtlest  of  tragedies — "perhaps  the 
greatest  work  in  the  world."  3  "  The  most  pathetic  of 
human  compositions."  4 

DURATION   OF  ACTION 

The  action  seems  to  cover  three  days : — Act  I — one  day ; 
interval  for  voyage ;  Act  II — one  day ;  Acts  III,  IV,  V — 
one  day.  In  order  to  get  over  the  difficulty  of  this  time- 
division  various  theories  have  been  advanced,  notably  that 
of  Double  Time,  propounded  by  Halpin  and  Wilson;  ac- 
cording to  the  latter,  "Shakespeare  counts  off  days  and 
hours,  as  it  were,  by  two  clocks,  on  one  of  which  the  true 
Historic  Time  is  recorded,  and  on  the  other  the  Dramatic 
Time,  or  a  false  show  of  time,  whereby  days,  weeks,  and 

1  This  is  the  only  name  given  by  Cinthi*.  Steevens  first  pointed 
out  that  "Othello"  is  found  in  Reynold's  God's  Revenge  against 
Adultery,  standing  in  one  of  his  arguments  as  follows: — "She  mar- 
ries Othello,  an  old  German  soldier."  The  name  "Iago"  also  occurs 
in  the  book.  It  is  also  found  in  The  first  and  second  part  of  the 
History  of  the  famous  Euordanus3  Prince  of  Denmark.  With  the 
strange  adventures  of  Iago,  Prince  of  Saxonie:  and  of  both  their 
several  fortunes  in  Love.    At  London,  1605. 

2  Mrs.  Jameson  rightly  calls  attention  to  a  striking  incident  of 
the  original  story: — Desdemona  does  not  accidentally  drop  the 
handkerchief:  it  is  stolen  from  her  by  Iago's  little  child,  an  infant 
of  three  years  old,  whom  he  trains  and  bribes  to  the  theft.  The 
love  of  Desdemona  for  this  child,  her  little  playfellow — the  pretty 
description  of  her  taking  it  in  her  arms  and  caressing  it,  while  it 
profits  by  its  situation  to  steal  the  handkerchief  from  her  bosom, 
are  well  imagined  and  beautifully  told,  etc. 

s  Macaulay. 

4  Wordsworth : — "The  tragedy  of  Othello,  Plato's  records  of  the 
last  scenes  in  the  career  of  Socrates,  and  Izaak  Walton's  Life  of 
George  Herbert  are  the  most  pathetic  of  human  compositions."  (A 
valuable  summary  of  criticisms,  English  and  foreign,  will  be  found 
in  Furness'  Othello,  pp.  407-453.) 

xi 


Preface 


OTHELLO 


months  may  be  to  the  utmost  contracted"  (Furness,  pp. 
358-372). 

According  to  Mr.  Fleay,  the  scheme  of  time  for  the  play 
is  as  follows: — 

Act  I — one  day.  Interval  for  voyage.  Act  II — one 
day.  Act  III — one  day  (Sunday).  Interval  of  a  week, 
at  least.  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii ;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii — one  day. 
Where  Act  IV  begins  with  what  is  now  Act  III,  sc.  iv,  and 
Act  V  with  the  present  Act  IV,  sc.  iii. 

"Dreams,  Books,  are  each  a  world:  and  books,  we  know, 
Are  a  substantial  world,  both  pure  and  good; 
Round  them  with  tendrils  strong  as  flesh  and  blood, 
Our  pastime  and  our  happiness  will  grow. 
There  find  I  personal  theme,  a  plenteous  store, 
Matter  wherein  right  voluble  I  am, 
To  which  I  listen  with  a  ready  ear; 
Two  shall  be  named  pre-eminently  dear, — 
The  gentle  Lady  married  to  the  Moor; 
And  heavenly  Una,  with  her  milk-white  Lamb. 


INTRODUCTION 


By  Henry  Norman  Hudson,  A.M. 

II  Moro  di  Venezia  is  the  title  of  one  of  the  novels  in 
Giraldi  Cinthio's  Hecatommithi.  The  material  for  The 
Tragedy  of  Othello,  the  Moor  of  Venice,  was  partly  de- 
rived from  this  source.  Whether  the  story  was  accessible 
to  Shakespeare  in  English,  we  have  no  certain  knowledge. 
No  translation  of  so  early  a  date  has  been  seen  or  heard 
of  in  modern  times ;  and  we  have  already  in  several  cases 
found  reason  to  think  he  knew  enough  of  Italian  to  take 
the  matter  directly  from  the  original.  We  proceed,  as 
usual,  to  give  such  an  abstract  of  the  tale  as  may  fully  dis- 
cover the  nature  and  extent  of  the  Poet's  obligations : 

There  lived  in  Venice  a  valiant  Moor  who  was  held  in 
high  esteem  for  his  military  genius  and  services.  Des- 
demona,  a  lady  of  great  virtue  and  beauty,  won  by  his 
noble  qualities,  fell  in  love  with  him.  He  also  became 
equally  enamored  of  her,  and,  notwithstanding  the  opposi- 
tion of  her  friends,  married  her.  They  were  altogether 
happy  in  each  other  until  the  Moor  was  chosen  to  the 
I  military  command  of  Cyprus.  Though  much  pleased  with 
this  honor,  he  was  troubled  to  think  that  he  must  either 
part  from  his  wife  or  else  expose  her  to  the  dangers  of  the 
voyage.  She,  seeing  him  troubled  and  not  knowing  the 
cause,  asked  him  one  day  how  he  could  be  so  melancholy 
after  being  thus  honored  by  the  Senate;  and,  on  being 
told  the  reason,  begged  him  to  dismiss  such  idle  thoughts, 
as  she  was  resolved  to  follow  him  wherever  he  should  go, 
and,  if  there  were  any  dangers  in  the  way,  to  share  them 
with  him.  So,  the  necessary  preparations  being  made,  he 
soon  afterwards  embarked  with  his  wife,  and  sailed  for 

xiii 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


Cyprus.  In  his  company  he  had  an  ensign,  of  a  fine  look- 
ing person,  but  exceedingly  depraved  in  heart,  a  boaster 
and  a  coward,  who  by  his  craftiness  and  pretension  had 
imposed  on  the  Moor's  simplicity,  and  gained  his  friend- 
ship. This  rascal  also  took  his  wife  along,  a  handsome 
and  discreet  woman,  who,  being  an  Italian,  was  much  cher- 
ished by  Desdemona.  In  the  same  company  was  also  a 
lieutenant  to  whom  the  Moor  was  much  attached,  and 
often  had  him  to  dine  with  him  and  his  wife;  Desdemona 
showing  him  great  attention  and  civility  for  her  husband's 
sake. 

The  ensign,  falling  passionately  in  love  with  Desdemona, 
and  not  daring  to  avow  it  lest  the  Moor  should  kill  him, 
sought  by  private  means  to  make  her  aware  of  his  passion. 
But  when  he  saw  that  all  his  efforts  came  to  nothing,  and 
that  she  was  too  much  wrapped  up  in  her  husband  to  think 
of  him  or  any  one  else,  he  at  last  took  it  into  his  head 
that  she  was  in  love  wi+h  the  lieutenant,  and  determined  to 
work  the  ruin  oi  them  both  by  accusing  them  to  the  Moor 
of  adultery.  But  he  saw  that  he  would  have  to  be  very 
artful  in  his  treachery,  else  the  Moor  would  not  believe 
him,  so  great  was  his  affection  for  his  wife,  and  his  friend- 
ship for  the  lieutenant.  He  therefore  watched  for  an  op- 
portunity of  putting  his  design  into  act;  and  it  was  not 
long  before  he  found  one.  For,  the  lieutenant  having 
drawn  his  sword  and  wounded  a  soldier  upon  guard,  the 
Moor  cashiered  him.  De  mona  tried  very  hard  to  get 
him  pardoned,  and  received  agai:  to  fr  ,or.  When  the 
Moor  told  his  ensign  how  earnest  she  was  in  the  cause, 
the  villain  saw  it  was  the  proper  time  for  opening  his 
scheme:  so,  he  suggested  that  she  might  be  fond  of  the 
lieutenant's  company;  and,  th  Moor  asking  him  why,  he 
replied, — "Nay,  I  do  fVot  choose  to  meddle  between  man 
and  wife ;  but  watch  her  properly,  and  you  will  then  under- 
stand me."  The  Moor  could  get  no  further  explanation 
from  him,  and,  being  stung  to  the  quick  by  his  words,  kept 
brooding  upon  them,  and  trying  to  make  out  their  mean- 
ing ;  and  when  his  wife,  some  time  after,  again  begged  him 

■siv 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


to  forgive  the  lieutenant,  and  not  to  let  one  slight  fault 
cancel  a  friendship  of  so  many  years,  he  at  last  grew 
angry,  and  wondered  why  she  should  trouble  herself  so 
much  about  the  fellow,  as  he  was  no  relation  of  hers.  She 
replied  with  much  sweetness,  that  her  only  motive  in  speak- 
ing was  the  pain  she  felt  in  seeing  her  husband  deprived  of 
so  good  a  friend. 

Upon  this  solicitation,  he  began  to  suspect  that  the  en- 
sign's words  meant  that  she  was  in  love  with  the  lieutenant. 
So,  being  full  of^  inelancJiQlyL thoughts,  he  went  to  the  en- 
sign, and  tried  to  make  him  speak  more  intelligibly ;  who, 
feigning  great  reluctance  to  say  more,  and  making  as 
though  he  yielded  to  his  pressing  entreaties,  at  last  re- 
plied,— "You  must  know,  then,  tha.  Desdemona  is  grieved 
for  the  lieutenant  only  because,  when  he  comes  to  your 
house,  she  consoles  herself  with  him  for  the  disgust  she  now 
has  at  your  blackness."  At  this,  the  Moor  was  more  deeply 
stung  than  ever;  but,  wishing  to  be  informed  further,  he 
put  on  a  threatening  look,  and  said, — "I  know  not  what 
keeps  me  from  cutting  out  that  insolent  tongue  of  yours, 
which  has  thus  attacked  the  honor  of  my  wife.''  The  en- 
sign replied  that  he  expected  no  other  reward  for  his 
friendship,  but  still  protested  that  he  had  spoken  the  truth. 
"If,"  said  he,  "her  feigned  affection  has  blinded  you  to 
such  a  degree  that  you  cannot  see  what  is  so  very  visible, 
that  does  not  lessen  the  truth  of  my  assertion. "  The  lieu- 
tenant himself,  being  one  of  those  who  are  not  content 
unless  some  others  are  made  privy  to  their  secret  enjoy- 
ments, told  me  so ;  and  I  would  have  given  him  his  death 
at  the  time,  but  that  I  feared  your  displeasure:  but,  since 
you  thus  reward  my  friendship,  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  hold 
my  tongue."  The  Moor  answered  in  great  passion, — "If 
you— de  not  make  me  see  with  my  own  eyes  the  truth  of 
what  you  tell  me,  be  assured  that  I  will  make  you  wish  you 
had  been  born  dumb." — "That  would  have  been  easy 
enough,"  said  the  ensign,  "when  the  lieutenant  came  to 
your  house;  but  now  that  you  have  driven  him  away,  it 
will  be  hard  to  prove  it.    But  I  do  not  despair  of  caus- 

xv 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


ing  you  to  see  that  which  you  will  not  believe  on  my  word." 

The  Moor  then  went  home  with  a  barbed  arrow  in  his 
side,  impatient  for  the  time  when  he  was  to  see  what  would 
render  him  forever  miserable.  Meanwhile,  the  known 
purity  of  Desdemona  made  the  ensign  very  uneasy  lest 
he  should  not  be  able  to  convince  the  Moor  of  what  he 
said.  He  therefore  went  to  hatching  new  devices  of  mal- 
ice. Now,  Desdemona  often  went  to  his  house,  and  spent 
part  of  the  day  with  his  wife.  Having  observed  that  she 
brought  with  her  a  handkerchief  which  the  Moor  had  given 
her,  and  which,  being  delicately  worked  in  the  Moorish 
style,  was  much  prized  by  them  both,  he  devised  to  steal  it. 
He  had  a  little  girl  of  three  years  old,  who  was  much 
caressed  by  Desdemona.  So,  one  day,  when  she  was  at 
his  house,  he  put  the  child  into  her  arms,  and  while  she  was 
pressing  the  little  girl  to  her  bosom,  he  stole  away  the 
handkerchief  so  dexterously  that  she  did  not  perceive  it. 
This  put  him  in  high  spirits.  And  the  lady,  being  occu- 
pied with  other  things,  did  not  think  of  the  handkerchief 
till  some  days  after,  when,  not  being  able  to  find  it,  she 
began  to  fear  lest  the  Moor  should  ask  for  it,  as  he  often 
did.  The  ensign,  watching  his  orpc~tunity,  went  to  the 
lieutenant,  and  left  the  handkerchief  on  his  bolster.  When 
the  lieutenant  found  it,  he  could  nol  lagine  how  it  came 
there ;  but,  knowing  it  to  be  Desdemona's,  he  resolved  to 
carrjr  it  to  her:  so,  waiting  till  the  Moor  waj  gone  out, 
he  went  to  the  back  door  and  knocked.  The  Moor,  having 
that  instant  returned,  went  to  the  window,  and  asked  who 
was  there ;  whereupon  the  lieutenant,  hearing  his  voice,  ran 
away  without  answering.  The  Moor  then  went  to  the 
door,  and,  finding  no  one  there,  returned  full  of  suspicion, 
and  asked  his  wife  if  she  knew  who  it  was  that  had  knocked. 
She  answered  with  truth  that  she  did  not ;  but  he,  thinking 
it  was  the  lieutenant,  went  to  the  ensign,  told  him  what  had 
happened,  and  engaged  him  to  ascertain  what  he  could  on 
the  subject. 

The  ensign,  being  much  delighted  at  this  incident,  con- 
trired  one  day  to  have  an  interview  with  the  lieutenant  in 

xvi 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


a  place  where  the  Moor  could  see  them.  In  the  course  of 
their  talk,  which  was  on  a  different  subject,  he  laughed 
much,  and  by  his  motions  expressed  great  surprise.  As 
soon  as  they  had  parted,  the  Moor  went  to  the  ensign,  to 
learn  what  had  passed  between  them ;  and  he,  after  much 
urging,  declared  that  the  lieutenant  withheld  nothing  from 
him,  but  rather  boasted  of  his  frequent  wickedness  with 
Desdemona,  and  how,  the  last  time  he  was  with  her,  she 
made  him  a  present  of  the  handkerchief  her  husband  had 
given  her.  The  Moor  thanked  him,  and  thought  that  if 
his  wife  no  longer  had  the  handkerchief,  this  would  be  a 
proof  that  the  ensign  had  told  him  the  truth.  So,  one 
day  after  dinner  he  asked  her  for  it;  and  she,  being  much 
disconcerted  at  the  question,  and  blushing  deeply,  all 
which  was  carefully  observed  by  the  Moor,  ran  to  her 
wardrobe,  as  if  to  look  for  it;  but,  as  she  could  not  find  it, 
and  wondered  what  had  become  of  it,  he  told  her  to  look  for 
it  some  other  time ;  then  left  her,  and  began  to  reflect  how 
he  might  put  her  and  the  lieutenant  to  death  so  as  not  to 
be  held  responsible  for  the  murder. 

The  lieutenant  had  in  his  house  a  woman  who,  struck 
with  the  beauty  of  the  handkerchief,  determined  to  copy  it 
before  it  should  be  returned.  While  she  was  at  the  work, 
sitting  by  a  window  where  any  one  passing  in  the  street 
might  see  her,  the  ensign  pointed  it  out  to  the  Moor,  who 
was  then  fully  persuaded  of  his  wife's  guilt.  The  ensign 
then  engaged  to  kill  both  her  and  the  lieutenant.  So,  one 
dark  night,  as  the  lieutenant  was  coming  out  of  a  house 
where  he  usually  spent  his  evenings,  the  ensign  stealthily 
gave  him  a  cut  in  the  leg  with  his  sword,  and  brought  him 
to  the  ground,  and  then  rushed  upon  him  to  finish  the 
work.  But  the  lieutenant,  who  was  very  brave  and  skill- 
ful, having  drawn  his  sword,  raised  himself  for  defense, 
and  cried  out  murder  as  loud  as  he  could.  As  the  alarm 
presently  drew  some  people  to  the  spot,  the  ensign  fled 
away,  but  quickly  returned,  pretended  that  he  too  was 
brought  thither  by  the  noise,  and  condoled  with  the  lieu- 
tenant as  much  as  if  he  had  been  his  brother.    The  next 

xvii 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


morning,  Desdemona,  hearing  what  had  happened,  ex- 
pressed much  concern  for  the  lieutenant,  and  this  greatly 
strengthened  the  Moor's  conviction  of  her  guilt.  He  then 
arranged  with  the  ensign  for  putting  her  to  death  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  avoid  suspicion.  As  the  Moor's  house  was 
very  old,  and  the  ceiling  broken  in  divers  places,  the  plan 
agreed  upon  at  the  villain's  suggestion  was,  that  she  should 
be  beaten  to  death  with  a  stocking  full  of  sand,  as  this 
would  leave  no  marks  upon  her;  and  that  when  this  was 
done  they  should  pull  down  the  ceiling  over  her  head,  and 
then  give  out  that  she  was  killed  by  a  beam  falling  upon 
her.  To  carry  this  purpose  into  effect,  the  Moor  one 
night  had  the  ensign  hidden  in  a  closet  opening  into  his 
chamber.  At  the  proper  time,  the  ensign  made  a  noise, 
and  when  Desdemona  rose  and  went  to  see  what  it  was,  he 
rushed  forth  and  killed  her  in  the  manner  proposed.  They 
then  placed  her  on  the  bed,  and  when  all  was  done  ac- 
cording to  the  arrangement,  the  Moor  gave  an  alarm  that 
his  house  was  falling.  The  neighbors  running  thither 
found  the  lady  dead  under  the  beams.  The  next  day,  she 
was  buried,  the  whole  island  mourning  for  her. 

The  Moor,  not  long  after,  became  distracted  with  grief 
and  remorse.  Unable  to  bear  the  sight  of  the  ensign,  he 
would  have  put  him  openly  to  death,  but  that  he  feared 
the  justice  of  the  Venetians ;  so  he  drove  him  from  his  com- 
pany and  degraded  him,  whereupon  the  villain  went  to 
studying  how  to  be  revenged  on  the  Moor.  To  this  end, 
he  disclosed  the  whole  matter  to  the  lieutenant,  who  ac- 
cused the  Moor  before  the  Senate,  and  called  the  ensign 
to  witness  the  truth  of  his  charges.  The  Moor  was  im- 
prisoned, banished,  and  afterwards  killed  by  his  wife's  re- 
lations. The  ensign,  returning  to  Venice,  and  continuing 
his  old  practices,  was  taken  up,  put  to  the  torture,  and 
racked  so  violently  that  he  soon  died. 

Such  are  the  materials  out  of  which  was  constructed  this 
greatest  of  domestic  dramas.  A  comparison  of  Cinthio's 
tale  with  the  tragedy  built  upon  it  will  show  the  measure 
oi'the  Poet's  judgment  better,  perhaps,  than  could  be  done 

xviii 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


by  an  entirely  original  performance.  For,  wherever  he 
departs  from  the  story,  it  is  for  a  great  and  manifest  gain 
of  truth  and  nature;  so  that  he  appears  equally  judicious 
in  what  he  borrowed  and  in  what  he  created,  while  his  re- 
sources of  invention  seem  boundless,  save  as  they  are  self- 
restrained  by  the  reason  and  logic  of  art.  The  tale  has 
nothing  anywise  answering  to  the  part  of  Roderigo,  who 
in  the  drama  is  a  vastly  significant  and  effective  occasion, 
since  upon  him  the  most  profound  and  subtle  traits  of 
Iago  are  made  to  transpire,  and  that  in  such  a  way  as 
to  lift  the  characters  of  Othello  and  Desdemona  into  a 
much  higher  region,  and  invest  them  with  a  far  deeper 
and  more  pathetic  interest  and  meaning.  And  even  in  the^ 
other  parts,  the  Poet  can  scarce  be  said  to  have  taken  any 
thing  more  than  a  few  incidents  and  the  outline  of  the 
plot;  the  character,  the  passion,  the  pathos,  the  poetry, 
being  entirely  his  own. 

Until  a  recent  date,  The  Tragedy  of  Othello  was  com- 
monly supposed  to  have  been  among  the  last  of  Shake- 
speare's writing.  Chalmers  assigned  it  to  1614,  Drake,  to 
1612;  Malone  at  first  set  it  down  to  1611,  afterwards  to 
1604.  Mr.  Collier  has  produced  an  extract  from  The 
Egerton  Papers,  showing  that  on  August  6,  1602,  the 
sum  of  ten  pounds  was  paid  "to  Burbage's  Players  for 
Othello."  At  that  time,  Queen  Elizabeth  was  at  Hare- 
field  on  a  visit  to  Sir  Thomas  Egerton,  then  Lord  Keeper 
of  the  Great  Seal,  afterwards  Lord  Ellesmere;  and  it  ap- 
pears that  he  had  the  tragedy  performed  at  his  residence 
for  her  delectation.  The  company  that  acted  on  this 
occasion  were  then  known  as  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  Serv- 
ants, and  in  The  Egerton  Papers  were  spoken  of  as  Bur- 
bage's Players,  probably  because  Richard  Burbage  was  the 
leading  actor  among  them.  And  an  elegy  on  the  death 
of  Burbage,  lately  discovered  among  Mr.  Heber's  manu- 
scripts, ascertains  him  to  have  been  the  original  per- 
former of  Othello's  part.  After  mentioning  various  char- 
acters in  which  this  actor  had  been  distinguished,  the  writer 
proceeds  thus : 

xix 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


"But  let  me  not  forget  one  chiefest  part 
Wherein,  beyond  the  rest,  he  mov'd  the  heart; 
The  grieved  Moor,  made  jealous  by  a  slave, 
Who  sent  his  wife  to  fill  a  timeless  grave, 
Then  slew  himself  upon  the  bloody  bed." 

When  selected  for  performance  at  Harefield,  Othello 
was  doubtless  in  the  first  blush  and  freshness  of  its  popu- 
larity, having  probably  had  a  run  at  the  Globe  in  the 
spring  of  that  year,  and  thus  recommended  itself  to  the 
audience  of  the  Queen.  Whether  the  play  were  then  in 
its  finished  state,  we  have  no  means  of  ascertaining.  Its 
workmanship  certainly  bespeaks  the  Poet's  highest  ma- 
turity of  power  and  art ;  which  has  naturally  suggested, 
that  when  first  brought  upon  the  stage  it  may  have  been 
as  different  from  what  it  is  now,  as  the  original  Hamlet 
was  from  the  enlarged  copy.  Such  is  the  reasonable  con- 
jecture of  Mr.  Verplanck, — a  conjecture  not  a  little  ap- 
proved by  the  fact  of  the  Poet's  having  rewritten  so  many 
of  his  dramas  after  his  mind  had  outgrown  their  original 
form.  The  style,  however,  of  the  play  is  throughout  so 
even  and  sustained,  so  perfect  is  the  coherence  and  con- 
gruity  of  part  with  part,  and  its  whole  course  so  free  from 
redundancy  and  impertinence,  that,  unless  some  further 
external  evidence  should  come  to  light,  the  question  will 
have  to  rest  in  mere  conjecture. 

The  drama  was  not  printed  during  the  author's  life. 
On  October  6,  1621,  it  was  entered  at  the  Stationers'  by 
Thomas  Walkley,  "under  the  hands  of  Sir  George  Buck 
and  of  the  Wardens."  Soon  after  was  issued  a  quarto 
pamphlet  of  forty-eight  leaves,  the  title-page  reading  thus: 
"The  Tragedy  of  Othello,  the  Moor  of  Venice.  As  it 
hath  been  divers  times  acted  at  the  Globe  and  at  the 
Blackfriars,  by  his  Majesty's  Servants.  Written  by  Wil- 
liam Shakespeare.  London:  Printed  by  N.  O.  for  Thomas 
Walkley,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop,  at  the  Eagle  and 
Child,  in  Britain's  Bourse.  1622."  This  edition  was  set 
forth  with  a  short  preface  by  the  publisher,  which  will  be 
found  in  the  foot-note  on  page  vii. 

xx 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


In  the  folio  of  1623,  Othello  stands  the  tenth  in  the  di- 
vision of  Tragedies,  has  the  acts  and  scenes  regularly 
marked,  and  at  the  end  a  list  of  the  persons,  headed,  "The 
Names  of  the  Actors."  Iago  is  here  called  "a  villain," 
and  Roderigo  "a  gull'd  gentleman."  In  the  folio,  the 
play  has  a  number  of  passages,  some  of  them  highly 
important,  amounting  in  all  to  upwards  of  160  lines, 
which  are  not  in  the  preceding  quarto.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  folio  omits  a  few  lines  that  are  found  in  the 
earlier  issue. 

The  play  was  again  set  forth  in  quarto  form  in  1630, 
with  a  title-page  reading  substantially  the  same  as  that 
of  1622,  save  as  regards  the  name  and  address  of  the  pub- 
lisher. 

Neither  one  of  these  copies  was  merely  a  repetition  of 
another:  on  the  contrary,  all  three  of  them  were  printed 
from  different  and  probably  independent  manuscripts. 

The  island  of  Cyprus  became  subject  to  the  republic 
of  Venice,  and  was  first  garrisoned  with  Venetian  troops, 
in  1471.  After  this  time,  the  only  attempt  ever  made  upon 
that  island  by  the  Turks,  was  under  Selim  the  Second, 
in  1570.  It  was  then  invaded  by  a  powerful  force,  and 
conquered  in  1571  ;  since  which  time  it  has  continued  a 
part  of  the  Turkish  empire.  We  learn  from  the  play,  that 
there  was  a  junction  of  the  Turkish  fleet  at  Rhodes,  in  or- 
der for  the  invasion  of  Cyprus;  that  it  first  sailed  towards 
C3Tprus,  then  went  to  Rhodes,  there  met  another  squadron, 
and  then  resumed  its  course  to  Cyprus.  These  are  his- 
torical facts,  and  took  place  when  Mustapha,  Selim's  gen- 
eral, attacked  Cyprus,  in  May,  1570;  which  is  therefore 
the  true  period  of  the  action. 

In  respect  of  general  merit,  Othello  unquestionably 
stands  in  the  same  rank  with  the  Poet's  three  other  great 
tragedies,  Macbeth,  Lear,  and  Hamlet.  As  to  the  par- 
ticular place  it  is  entitled  to  hold  among  the  four,  the 
best  judges,  as  we  might  expect,  are  not  agreed.  In  the 
elements  and  impressions  of  moral  terror,  it  is  certainly 
inferior  to  Macbeth;  in  breadth  and  variety  of  character- 

xxi 


introduction 


OTHELLO 


ization,  to  Lear;  in  compass  and  reach  of  thought  to 
Hamlet:  but  it  has  one  advantage  over  all  the  others,  in 
that  the  passion,  the  action,  the  interest,  all  lie  strictly 
within  the  sphere  of  domestic  life ;  for  which  cause  the  play 
has  a  more  close  and  intimate  hold  on  the  common  sym- 
pathies of  mankind.  On  the  whole,  perhaps  it.  may  be 
safely  affirmed  of  these  four  tragedies,  that  the  most  com- 
petent readers  will  always  like  that  best  which  they  read 
last. 

Dr.  Johnson  winds  up  his  excellent  remarks  on  this  trag- 
edy as  follows:  "Had  the  scene  opened  in  Cyprus,  and 
the  preceding  incidents  been  occasionally  related,  there  had 
been  little  wanting  to  a  drama  of  the  most  exact  and  scru- 
pulous regularity."  This  means,  no  doubt,  that  the  play 
would  have  been  improved  by  such  a  change.  The  whole 
of  Act  I  would  thus  have  been  spared,  and  we  should  have, 
instead,  various  narrations  in  the  form  of  soliloquy,  but 
addressed  to  the  audience.  Here,  then,  wrould  be  two  im- 
proprieties,— the  turning  of  the  actor  into  an  orator  by 
putting  him  directly  in  communication  with  the  audience, 
and  the  making  him  soliloquize  matter  inconsistent  with  the 
nature  of  the  soliloquy. 

But,  to  say  nothing  of  the  irregularity  thus  involved,  all 
the  better  meaning  of  Act  I  would  needs  be  lost  in  narra- 
tion. For  the  very  reason  of  the  dramatic  form  is,  that 
action  conveys  something  which  cannot  be  done  up  in 
propositions.  So  that,  if  narrative  could  here  supply  the 
place  of  the  scenes  in  question,  it  does  not  appear  why 
there  should  be  any  such  drama  at  all.  We  will  go 
further:  This  first  Act  is  the  very  one  which  could  least 
be  spared,  as  being  in  effect  fundamental  to  the  others,  and 
therefore  necessary  to  the  right  understanding  of  them. 

One  great  error  of  criticism  has  been,  the  looking  for 
too  much  simplicity  of  purpose  in  works  of  art.  We  are 
told,  for  instance,  that  the  end  of  the  drama  is,  to  represent 
actions ;  and  that,  to  keep  the  work  clear  of  redundances, 
the  action  must  be  one,  with  a  beginning,  a  middle,  and 
an  end;  as  if  all  the  details,  whether  of  persons  or  events, 

xxii 


THK  MOOR 


Introduction 


were  merely  for  the  sake  of  the  catastrophe.  Thus  it  is 
presumed,  that  any  one  thing,  to  be  properly  understood, 
should  be  detached  from  all  others.  Such  is  not  the 
method  of  nature:  to  accomplish  one  aim,  she  carries  many 
aims  along  together.  And  so  the  proper  merit  of  a  work 
of  art,  which  is  its  truth  to  nature,  lies  in  the  harmony  of 
divers  coordinate  and  concurrent  purposes,  making  it,  not 
like  a  flat  abstraction,  but  like  a  round,  plump  fact. 
Unity  of  effect  is  indeed  essential;  but  unity  as  distin- 
guished from  mere  oneness  of  effect  comes,  in  art  as  in 
nature,  by  complexity  of  purpose ; — a  complexity  wherein 
each  purpose  is  alternately  the  means  and  the  end  of  the 
others. 

Whether  the  object  of  the  drama  be  more  to  represent 
action,  or  passion,  or  character,  cannot  be  affirmed,  because 
in  the  nature  of  things  neither  of  these  can  be  represented 
save  in  vital  union  with  the  others.  If,  however,  either 
should  have  precedence,  doubtless  it  is  character,  foras- 
much as  this  is  the  common  basis  of  the  other  two :  but  the 
complication  and  interaction  of  several  characters  is  nec- 
essary to  the  development  of  any  one;  the  persons  serv- 
ing as  the  playground  of  each  other's  transpirations,  and 
reciprocally  furnishing  motives,  impulses,  and  occasions. 
For  every  society,  whether  actual  or  dramatic,  is  a  con- 
cresence  of  individuals:  men  do  not  grow  and  develop 
alone,  but  by  and  from  each  other;  so  that  many  have  to 
grow  up  together  in  order  for  any  one  to  grow;  the  best 
part  even  of  their  individual  life  coming  to  them  from  or 
through  the  social  organization.  And  as  men  are  made, 
so  they  must  be  studied ;  as  no  one  can  grow  by  himself, 
so  none  can  be  understood  by  himself :  his  character  being 
partly  derived,  must  also  be  partly  interpreted,  from  the 
particular  state  of  things  in  which  he  lives,  the  characters 
that  act  with  him,  and  upon  him. 

It  may  be  from  oversight  of  these  things,  that  the  first 
Act  in  Othello  has  been  thought  superfluous.  If  the  rise, 
progress,  and  result  of  the  Moor's  passion  were  the  only 
aim  of  the  work,  that  Act  might  indeed  be  dispensed  with. 

xxiii 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


But  we  must  first  know  something  of  his  character  and 
the  characters  that  act  upon  him,  before  wre  can  rightly 
decide  what  and  whence  his  passion  is.  This  knowledge 
ought  to  be,  and  in  fact  is,  given  in  the  opening  scenes  of 
the  play. 

Again :  We  often  speak  of  men  as  acting  thus  or  thus, 
according  as  they  are  influenced  from  without.  And  in 
one  sense  this  is  true,  yet  not  so,  but  that  the  man  rather 
determines  the  motive,  than  the  motive  the  man.  For  the 
same  influences  often  move  men  in  different  directions,  ac- 
cording to  their  several  predispositions  of  character. 
What  is  with  one  a  motive  to  virtue,  is  with  another  a 
motive  to  vice,  and  with  a  third  no  motive  at  all.  On  the 
other  hand,  where  the  outward  motions  are  the  same,  the 
inward  springs  are  often  very  different:  so  that  we  can- 
not rightly  interpret  a  man's  actions,  without  some  fore- 
cast of  his  actuating  principle ;  his  actions  being  the  index 
of  his  character,  and  his  character  the  light  whereby  that 
index  is  to  be  read.  The  first  business,  then,  of  a  drama 
is,  to  give  some  preconception  of  the  characters  which  may 
render  their  actions  intelligible,  and  which  may  itself  in 
turn  receive  further  illustration  from  the  actions. 

Now,  there  are  few  things  in  Shakespeare  more  remark- 
able than  the  judgment  shown  in  his  first  scenes;  and 
perhaps  the  very  highest  instance  of  this  is  in  the  opening 
of  Othello.  The  play  begins  strictly  at  the  beginning,  and 
goes  regularly  forward,  instead  of  beginning  in  the  mid- 
dle, as  Johnson  would  have  it,  and  then  going  both  ways. 
The  first  Act  gives  the  prolific  germs  from  which  the  whole 
is  evolved;  it  is  indeed  the  seminary  of  the  whole  pla}', 
and  unfolds  the  characters  in  their  principles,  as  the  other 
Acts  do  in  their  phenomena.  The  not  attending  duly  to 
what  is  there  disclosed  has  caused  a  good  deal  of  false 
%  criticism  on  the  play;  as,  for  example,  in  the  case  of  Iago, 
who,  his  earlier  developments  being  thus  left  out  of  the 
account,  or  not  properly  weighed,  has  been  supposed  to 
act  from  revenge;  and  then,  as  no  adequate  motives  for 

xxiv 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


such  a  revenge  are  revealed,  the  character  has  been  thought 
unnatural. 

The  main  passions  and  proceedings  of  the  drama  all 
have  their  primum  mobile  in  Iago ;  and  the  first  Act  amply 
discloses  what  he  is  made  of  and  moved  by.  As  if  on  pur- 
pose to  prevent  any  mistake  touching  his  springs  of  ac- 
tion, he  is  set  forth  in  various  aspects  having  no  direct 
bearing  on  the  main  course  of  the  play.  He  comes  before 
us  exercising  his  faculties  on  the  dupe  Roderigo,  and  there- 
by spilling  out  the  secret  of  his  habitual  motives  and  mv 
pulses.  That  his  very  frankness  may  serve  to  heighten 
our  opinion  of  his  sagacity,  the  subject  he  is  practising 
upon  is  at  once  seen  to  be  a  person  who,  from  strength  of 
passion,  weakness  of  understanding,  and  want  of  charac- 
ter, will  be  kept  from  sticking  at  his  own  professions  of 
villainy.  So  that  the  freedom  with  which  he  here  unmasks 
himself  only  lets  us  into  his  keen  perceptions  of  his  whens 
and  hows. 

We  know  from  the  first,  that  the  bond  of  union  between 
them  is  the  purse.  Roderigo  thinks  he  is  buying  up  Iago's 
talents  and  efforts.  This  is  just  what  Iago  means  to  have 
him  think;  and  it  is  something  doubtful  which  glories  most, 
the  one  in  having  money  to  bribe  talents,  or  the  other  in 
having  wit  to  catch  money.  Still  it  is  plain  enough  that 
Iago,  with  a  pride  of  intellectual  mastery  far  stronger 
than  his  love  of  lucre,  cares  less  for  the  money  than  for  the 
fun  of  wheedling  and  swindling  others  out  of  it. 

But  while  Iago  is  selling  pledges  of  assistance  to  his 
dupe,  there  is  the  stubborn  fact  of  his  being  in  the  serv- 
ice of  Othello ;  and  Roderigo  cannot  understand  how  he  is 
to  serve  two  masters  at  once  whose  interests  are  so  con- 
flicting. In  order,  therefore,  to  engage  his  faith  without 
forsaking  the  Moor,  he  has  to  persuade  Roderigo  that  he 
follows  the  Moor  but  to  serve  his  turn  upon  him.  A  hard 
task  indeed;  but,  for  that  very  cause,  all  the  more  grate- 
ful to  him,  since,  from  its  peril  and  perplexity,  it  requires 
the  great  stress  of  cunning,  and  gives  the  wider  scope  for 

xxv 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


his  ingenuity.  The  very  anticipation  of  the  thing  oils  his 
faculties  into  ecstacy ;  his  heart  seems  in  a  paroxysm  of 
delight  while  venting  his  passion  for  hypocrisy,  as  if  this 
most  Satanical  attribute  served  him  for  a  muse,  and  in- 
spired him  with  an  energy  and  eloquence  not  his  own. 

Still,  to  make  his  scheme  work,  he  must  allege  some  rea- 
sons for  his  purpose  touching  the  Moor:  for  Roderigo, 
gull  though  he  be,  is  not  so  gullible  as  to  entrust  his  cause 
to-a  groundless  treachery;  he  must  know  something  of  the 
strong  provocations  which  have  led  Iago  to  cherish  such 
designs.  Iago  understands  this  perfectly:  he  therefore 
pretends  a  secret  grudge  against  Othello,  which  he  is  but 
holding  in  till  he  can  find  or  make  a  fit  occasion ;  and  there- 
withal assigns  such  grounds  and  motives  as  he  knows  will 
secure  faith  in  his  pretense;  whereupon  the  other  gets  too 
warm  with  the  anticipated  fruits  of  his  treachery  to  sus- 
pect any  similar  designs  on  himself.  "Vonderful  indeed 
are  the  arts  whereby  the  rogue  wins  and  keeps  his  ascend- 
ancy over  the  gull !  During  their  conversation,  we  can  al- 
most see  the  former  worming  himself  into  the  latter,  like  a 
corkscrew  into  a  cork. 

But  Iago  has  a  still  harder  task,  to  carry  Roderigo 
along  in  a  criminal  quest  of  Desdemona ;  for  his  character 
is  marked  rather  by  want  of  principle  than  by  bad  prin- 
ciple, and  the  passion  with  which  she  has  inspired  him  is 
incompatible  with  any  purpose  of  dishonoring  her.  Until 
the  proceeding  before  the  Senate,  he  hopes  her  father  will 
break  off  the  match  with  Othello,  so  that  she  will  again 
be  open  to  an  honorable  solicitation ;  but,  when  he  finds 
her  married,  and  the  marriage  ratified  by  her  father,  he 
is  for  giving  up  in  despair.  But  Iago  again  besets  him, 
like  an  evil  angel,  and  plies  his  witchcraft  with  augmented 
vigor.  Himself  an  atheist  of  female  virtue,  he  has  no 
way  to  gain  his  point  but  by  debauching  Roderigo's  mind 
with  his  own  atheism.  With  an  overweening  pride  of 
wealth  Roderigo  unites  considerable  respect  for  woman- 
hood. Therefore  Iago  at  once  flatters  his  pride  by  urg- 
ing the  power  of  money,  and  inflames  his  passion  by  urg- 

xxvi 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


ing  the  frailty  of  woman;  for  the  greatest  preventive  of 
dishonorable  passion  is  faith  in  the  virtue  of  its  object. 
Throughout  this  undertakings .la^o'^^assjonless  soul  revels 
amid  lewd  thoughts  and  images,  like  a  spirit  broke  loose 
from  the  pit.  With  his  nimble  fancy,  his  facility  and 
felicity  of  combination,  fertile,  "fluent,  and  apposite  in 
plausibilities,  at  one  and  the  same  time  stimulating  Roder- 
igo's  inclination  to  believe,  and  stifling  his  ability  to  re- 
fute, what  is  said,  he  literally  overwhelms  his  power  of 
resistance.  By  often  iterating  the  words,  "put  money  in 
your  purse,"  he  tries  to  make  up  in  earnestness  of  asser- 
tion whatever  may  be  wanting  in  the  cogency  of  his  reason- 
ing, and,  in  proportion  as  Roderigo's  mind  lacks  room  for 
his  arguments,  to  subdue  him  by  mere  violence  of  im- 
pression. Glorying  alike  in  mastery  of  intellect  and 
of  will,  he  would  so  make  Roderigo  part  of  himself,  like 
his  hand  or  foot,  as  to  be  the  immediate  organ  of  his  own 
volitions.  Nothing  can  surpass  the  fiendish  chuckle  of 
self-satisfaction  with  which  he  turns  from  his  conquest  to 
sneer  at  the  victim : 

"Thus  do  I  ever  make  my  fool  my  purse; 
For  I  mine  own  gain'd  knowledge  should  profane, 
If  I  would  time  expend  with  such  a  snipe, 
But  for  my  sport  and  profit." 

So  much  for  Iago's  proceedings  with  the  gull.  The 
sagacity  with  which  he  feels  and  forescents  his  way  into 
Roderigo  is  only  equaled  by  the  skill  with  which,  while 
clinching  the  nail  of  one  conquest,  he  prepares  the  sub- 
ject, by  a  sort  of  forereaching  process,  for  a  further  con- 
quest. 

Roderigo,  if  not  preoccupied  with  vices,  is  empty  of 
virtues ;  so  that  Iago  has  but  to  play  upon  his  vanity  and 
passion,  and  ruin  him  through  these.    But  Othello  has  no 
such  avenues  open :  the  villain  can  reach  him  only  through  B 
his  virtues ;  has  no  way  to  work  his  ruin  but  by  turning  j 
his  honor  and  integrity  against  him.    And  the  same  ex-  1 
quisite  tact  of  character,  which  prompts  his,  frankness  to  I 

xxvii 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


the  former,  counsels  the  utmost  closeness  to  the  latter. 
Knowing  Othello's  "perfect  soul,"  he  dare  not  make  to  him 
the  least  tender  of  dishonorable  services,  lest  he  should  repel 
his  confidence,  and  incur  his  resentment.  Still  he  is  quite 
moderate  in  his  professions,  taking  shrewd  care  not  to 
whiten  the  sepulcher  so  much  as  to  provoke  an  investiga- 
tion of  its  contents.  He  therefore  rather  modestly  ac- 
knowledges his  conscientious  scruples  than  boasts  of  them ; 
as  though,  being  a  soldier,  he  feared  that  such  things 
might  speak  more  for  his  virtue  than  for  his  manhood. 
And  yet  his  reputation  for  exceeding  honesty  has  some- 
thing suspicious  about  it,  for  it  looks  as  though  he  had 
studied  to  make  that  virtue  somewhat  of  a  speciality  in 
his  outward  carriage;  whereas  true  honesty,  like  charity, 
naturally  shrinks  from  being  matter  of  public  fame,  lest 
by  notoriety  it  should  get  corrupted  into  vanity  or  pride. 

Iago's  method  with  the  Moor  is,  to  intermix  confession 
and  pretension  in  such  a  way  that  the  one  may  be  taken  as 
proof  of  modesty,  the  other,  of  fidelity.  When,  for  exam- 
ple, he  affects  to  disqualify  his  own  testimony,  on  the 
ground  that  "it  is  his  nature's  plague  to  spy  into  abuses," 
he  of  course  designs  a  contrary  impression ;  as,  in  actual 
life,  men  often  acknowledge  real  vices,  in  order  to  be  ac- 
quitted of  them.  That  his  accusation  of  others  may  stand 
the  clearer  of  distrust,  he  prefaces  it  by  accusing  himself. 
Acting,  too,  as  if  he  spared  no  pains  to  be  right,  yet  still 
feared  he  was  wrong,  his  very  opinions  carry  the  weight 
of  facts,  as  having  forced  themselves  upon  him  against 
his  will.  When,  watching  his  occasion,  he  proceeds  to  set 
his  scheme  of  mischief  at  work,  his  mind  seems  struggling 
with  some  terrible  secret  which  he  dare  not  let  out,  yet  can- 
not keep  in;  which  breaks  from  him  in  spite  of  himself, 
and  even  because  of  his  fear  to  utter  it.  He  thus  man- 
ages to  be  heard  and  still  seem  overheard,  that  so  he  may 
not  be  held  responsible  for  his  words,  any  more  than  if  he 
had  spoken  in  his  sleep.  In  those  well-known  lines, — 
"Good  name,  in  man  and  woman,  is  the  immediate  jewel  of 
their  souls,"  etc., — he  but  gives  out  that  he  is  restrained 

xxviii 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


only  by  tenderness  to  others  from  uttering  what  would 
blast  them.  And  there  is,  withal,  a  dark,  frightful  sig- 
nificance in  his  manner,  which  puts  the  hearer  in  an  agony 
of  curiosity :  the  more  he  refuses  to  tell  his  thoughts,  the 
more  he  sharpens  the  desire  to  know  them:  when  ques- 
tioned, he  so  states  his  reasons  for  not  speaking,  that  in 
effect  they  compel  the  Moor  to  extort  the  secret  from  him. 
For  his  purpose  is,  not  merely  to  deceive  Othello,  but  to 
get  his  thanks  for  deceiving  him. 

It  is  worth  remarking,  that  Iago  has  a  peculiar  classi- 
fication, whereby  all  the  movements  of  our  nature  fall 
under  the  two  heads  of  sensual  and  rational.  Now,  the 
healthy  mind  is  marked  by  openness  to  impressions  from 
without ;  is  apt  to  be  overmastered  by  the  inspiration  of 
external  objects;  in  which  case  the  understanding  is  kept 
subordinate  to  the  social,  moral,  and  religious  sentiments. 
But  our  ancient  despises  all  this.  Man,  argues  he,  is  made 
up  altogether  of  intellect  and  appetite,  so  that  whatever 
motions  do  not  spring  from  the  former  must  be  referred 
to  the  latter.  The  yielding  to  inspirations  from  without 
argues  an  ignoble  want  of  spiritual  force;  to  be  overmas- 
tered by  external  objects,  infers  a  conquest  of  the  flesh 
over  the  mind ;  all  the  religions  of  our  nature,  as  love, 
honor,  reverence,  according  to  this  liberal  and  learned 
spirit  are  but  "a  lust  of  the  blood  and  a  permission  of  the 
will,"  and  therefore  things  to  be  looked  down  upon  with 
contempt.  Hence,  when  his  mind  walks  amidst  the  better 
growings  of  humanity,  he  is  "nothing,  if  not  critical":  so 
he  pulls  up  every  flower,  however  beautiful,  to  find  a  flaw 
in  the  root ;  and  of  course  flaws  the  root  in  pulling  it. 
For,  indeed,  he  has,  properly  speaking,  no  susceptibilities ; 
his  mind  is  perfectly  unimpressible,  receives  nothing, 
yields  to  nothing,  but  cuts  its  way  through  every  thing  like 
a  flint. 

It  appears,  then,  that  in  Iago  intellectuality  itself  is 
made  a  character;  that  is,  the  intellect  has  cast  off  all  al- 
legiance to  the  moral  and  religious  sentiments,  and  become 
a  law  and  an  impulse  to  itself ;  so  that  the  mere  fact  of  his 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


being  able  to  do  a  thing  is  sufficient  reason  for  doing  it. 
For,  in  such  cases,  the  mind  comes  to  act,  not  for  any 
outward  ends  or  objects,  but  merely  for  the  sake  of  act- 
ing; has  a  passion  for  feats  of  agility  and  strength;  and 
may  even  go  so  far  as  to  revel  amid  the  dangers  and  diffi- 
culties of  wicked  undertakings.  We  thus  have,  not  in- 
deed a  craving  for  carnal  indulgences,  but  a  cold,  dry 
pruriency  of  intellect,  or  as  Mr.  Dana  aptly  styles  it,  "a 
lust  of  the  brain,"  which  naturally  manifests  itself  in  a 
fanaticism  of  mischief,  a  sort  of  hungering  and  thirsting 
after  unrighteousness.  Of  course,  therefore,  Iago  shows 
no  addiction  to  sensualities:  on  the  contrary,  all  his  pas- 
sions are  concentrated  in  the  head,  all  his  desires  eminently 
spiritual  and  Satanical;  so  that  he  scorns  the  lusts  of  the 
flesh,  or,  if  indulging  them  at  all,  generally  does  it  in  a 
criminal  way,  and  not  so  much  for  the  indulgence  as  for 
the  criminality  involved.  Such  appears  to  be  the  motive 
principle  of  Satan,  who,  so  far  as  we  know,  is  neither  a 
glutton,  nor  a  wine-bibber,  nor  a  debauchee,  but  an  imper- 
sonation of  pride  and  self-will;  and  therefore  prefers  such 
a  line  of  action  as  will  most  exercise  and  demonstrate  his 
power. 

Edmund  in  King  Lear,  seeing  his  road  clear  but  for 
moral  restraints,  politely  bows  them  out  of  door,  lest  they 
should  hinder  the  free  working  of  his  faculties.  Iago 
differs  from  him,  in  that  he  chooses  rather  to  invade  than 
elude  the  laws  of  morality:  when  he  sees  Duty  coming,  he 
takes  no  pains  to  play  round  or  get  by  her,  but  rather 
goes  out  of  his  way  to  meet  her,  as  if  on  purpose  to  spit 
in  her  face  and  walk  over  her.  That  a  thing  ought  not  to 
be  done,  is  thus  with  him  a  motive  for  doing  it,  because, 
the  worse  the  deed,  the  more  it  shows  his  freedom  and 
power.  When  he  owns  to  himself  that  "the  Moor  is  of  a 
constant,  loving,  noble  nature,"  it  is  not  so  much  that  he 
really  feels  these  qualities  in  him,  as  that,  granting  him  to 
have  them,  there  is  the  greater  merit  in  hating  him.  For 
anybody  can  hate  a  man  for  his  faults;  but  to  hate  a  man 
for  his  virtues,  is  something  original;  involves,  so  to 

XXX 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


speak,  a  declaration  of  moral  independence.  So,  too,  in 
the  soliloquy  where  he  speaks  of  loving  Desdemona,  he 
first  disclaims  any  unlawful  passion  for  her,  and  then  adds, 
parenthetically,  "though,  peradventure,  I  stand  account- 
ant for  as  great  a  sin";  as  much  as  to  say,  that  whether 
guilty  or  not  he  did  not  care,  and  dared  the  responsibility 
at  all  events.  So  that,  to  adopt  a  distinction  from  Dr. 
Chalmers,  he  here  seems  not  so  much  an  atheist  as  an 
antitheist  in  morality.  We  remember  that  the  late  Mr. 
Booth,  in  pronouncing  these  words,  cast  his  eyes  upwards, 
as  if  looking  Heaven  in  the  face  with  a  sort  of  defiant 
smile ! 

That  Iago  prefers  lying  to  telling  the  truth,  is  implied 
in  what  we  have  said.  Perhaps,  indeed,  such  a  preference 
is  inseparable  from  his  inordinate  intellectuality.  For  it 
is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  a  man's  love  of  truth 
will  needs  be  in  proportion  to  his  intellectuality:  on  the 
contrary,  an  excess  of  this  may  cause  him  to  prefer  lies, 
as  yielding  larger  scope  for  activity  and  display  of  mind. 
For  they  who  thrive  by  the  truth  naturally  attribute  their 
thrift  to  her  power,  not  to  their  own ;  and  success,  com- 
ing to  them  as  a  gift,  rather  humbles  than  elates  them. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  who  thrives  by  lying  can  reckon  him- 
self an  overmatch  for  truth;  he  seems  to  owe  none  of  his 
success  to  nature,  but  rather  to  have  wrung  it  out  in 
spite  of  her.  Even  so,  Iago's  characteristic  satisfaction 
seems  to  stand  in  a  practical  reversing  of  moral  distinc- 
tions; for  example,  in  causing  his  falsehood  to  do  the  work 
of  truth,  or  another's  truth,  the  work  of  falsehood.  For, 
to  make  virtue  pass  for  virtue,  and  pitch  for  pitch,  is  no 
triumph  at  all;  but  to  make  the  one  pass  for  the  other,  is 
a  triumph  indeed !  Iago  glories  in  thus  seeming  to  con- 
vict appearance  of  untruth ;  in  compelling  nature,  as  it 
were,  to  own  her  secret  deceptions,  and  acknowledge  him 
too  much  for  her.  Hence  his  adroit  practice  to  appear  as 
if  serving  Roderigo,  while  really  using  him.  Hence  his 
purpose,  not  merely  to  deceive  the  Moor,  but  to  get  his 

thanks  for  doing  so.    Therefore  it  is  that  he  takes  such  a 

xxxi 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


malicious  pleasure  in  turning  Desdemona's  conduct  wrong 
side  out ;  for,  the  more  angel  she,  the  greater  his  triumph 
in  making  her  seem  a  devil. 

There  is,  indeed,  no  touching  the  bottom  of  Iago's  art: 
sleepless,  unrelenting,  inexhaustible,  with  an  energy  that 
never  flags,  and  an  alertness  that  nothing  can  surprise, 
he  outwits  every  obstacle  and  turns  it  into  an  ally ;  the 
harder  the  material  before  him,  the  more  greedily  does  he 
seize  it,  the  more  adroitly  work  it,  the  more  effectively 
make  it  tell;  and  absolutely  persecutes  the  Moor  with  a 
redundancy  of  proof.  When,  for  instance,  Othello  drops 
the  words,  "and  yet  how  nature,  erring  from  itself" ; 
meaning  simply  that  no  woman  is  altogether  exempt  from 
frailty;  Iago  with  inscrutable  sleight-of-hand  forthwith 
steals  in  upon  him,  under  cover  of  this  remark,  a  cluster  of 
pregnant  insinuations,  as  but  so  many  inferences  from  his 
suggestion ;  and  so  manages  to  impart  his  own  thoughts  to 
the  Moor  by  seeming  to  derive  them  from  him.  Othello 
is  thus  brought  to  distrust  all  his  original  perceptions,  to 
renounce  his  own  understanding,  and  accept  Iago's  instead. 
And  such,  in  fact,  is  Iago's  aim,  the  very  earnest  and 
pledge  of  his  intellectual  mastery.  Nor  is  there  any  thing 
that  he  seems  to  take  with  more  gust,  than  the  pain  he  in- 
flicts by  making  the  Moor  think  himself  a  fool;  that  he  has 
been  the  easy  dupe  of  Desdemona's  arts ;  and  that  he  owes 
his  deliverance  to  the  keener  insight  and  sagacity  of  his 
honest,  faithful  ancient. 

But  there  is  scarce  any  wickedness  conceivable,  into 
which  such  a  lust  and  pride  of  intellect  and  will  may  not 
carry  a  man.  Craving  for  action  of  the  most  exciting 
kind,  there  is  a  fascination  for  him  in  the  very  danger  of 
crime.  Walking  the  plain,  safe,  straight-forward  path 
of  truth  and  nature,  does  not  excite  and  occupy  him 
enough ;  he  prefers  to  thread  the  dark,  perilous  intricacies 
of  some  hellish  plot,  or  to  balance  himself,  as  it  were,  on 
a  rope  stretched  over  an  abyss,  where  danger  stimulates  and 
success  demonstrates  his  agility.  Even  if  remorse  over- 
take such  a  man,  its  effect  is  to  urge  him  deeper  into  crime ; 

xxxii 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


as  the  desperate  gamester  naturally  tries  to  bury  his 
chagrin  at  past  losses  in  the  increased  excitement  of  a 
larger  stake. 

Critics  have  puzzled  themselves  a  good  deal  about 
Iago's  motives.  The  truth  is,  "natures  such  as  his  spin 
motives  out  of  their  own  bowels."  What  is  said  of  one  of 
Wordsworth's  characters  in  The  Borderers,  holds  equally 
true  of  our  ancient: 

"There  needs  no  other  motive 
Than  that  most  strange  incontinence  in  crime 
Which  haunts  this  Oswald.    Power  is  life  to  him 
And  breath  and  being;  where  he  cannot  govern, 
He  will  destroy." 

If  it  be  objected  to  this  view,  that  Iago  states  his  mo- 
tives to  Roderigo ;  we  answer,  Iago  is  a  liar,  and  is  trying 
to  dupe  Roderigo ;  and  knows  he  must  allege  some  motives, 
to  make  the  other  trust  him.  Or,  if  it  be  objected  that  he 
states  them  in  soliloquy,  when  there  is  no  one  present  for 
him  to  deceive ;  again  we  answer,  Yes  there  is ;  the  verv 
one  he  cares  most  to  deceive,  namely,  himself.  And  in- 
deed the  terms  of  this  statement  clearly  denote  a  foregone 
conclusion,  the  motives  coming  in  only  as  an  after-thought. 
The  truth  is,  he  cannot  quite  look  his  purpose  in  the  face, 
it  is  a  little  too  fiendish  for  his  steady  gaze ;  and  he  tries  to? 
hunt  up  or  conjure  up  some  motives,  to  keep  the  peace  be- 
tween it  and  his  conscience.  This  is  what  Coleridge  justly 
calls  "the  motive-hunting  of  a  motionless  malignity" ;  and 
well  may  he  add,  "how  awful  it  is !" 

Much  has  been  said  about  Iago's  acting  from  revenge. 
But  he  has  no  cause  for  revenge,  unless  to  deserve  his  love 
be  such  a  cause.  For  revenge  supposes  some  injury  re- 
ceived, real  or  fancied;  and  the  sensibility  whence  it  springs 
cannot  but  make  some  discrimination  as  to  its  objects.  So 
that,  if  this  were  his  motive,  he  would  respect  the  innocent 
while  crushing  the  guilty,  there  being,  else,  no  revenge  in 
the  case.  The  impossibility,  indeed,  of  accounting  for 
his  conduct  on  such  grounds  is  the  very  reason  why  the 

xxxiii 


Introduction  OTHELLO 

character,  judged  on  such  grounds,  has  been  pronounced 
unnatural.  It  is  true,  he  tries  to  suspect,  first  Othello, 
and  then  Cassio,  of  having  wronged  him:  he  even  finds  or 
feigns  a  certain  rumor  to  that  effect;  yet  shows,  by  his 
manner  of  talking  about  it,  that  he  does  not  himself  be- 
lieve it,  or  rather  does  not  care  whether  it  be  true  or 
not.  And  he  elsewhere  owns  that  the  reasons  he  alleges 
are  but  pretenses  after  all.  Even  while  using  his  divin- 
ity, he  knows  it  is  the  "divinity  of  hell,"  else  he  would 
scorn  to  use  it ;  and  boasts  of  the  intention  to  entrap  his 
victims  through  their  friendship  for  him,  as  if  his  obli- 
gations to  them  were  his  only  provocations  against  them. 
For,  to  bad  men,  obligations  often  are  provocations. 
That  he  ought  to  honor  them,  and  therefore  envies  them, 
is  the  only  wrong  they  have  done  him,  or  that  he  thinks 
they  have  done  him;  and  he  means  to  indemnify  himself 
for  their  right  to  his  honor,  by  ruining  them  through  the 
very  gifts  and  virtues  which  have  caused  his  envy.  Mean- 
while, he  amuses  his  reasoning  powers  by  inventing  a  sort 
of  ex-post-facto  motives  for  his  purpose;  the  same 
wicked  busy-mindedness,  that  suggests  the  crime,  prompt- 
ing him  to  play  with  the  possible  reasons  for  it. 

We  have  dwelt  the  longer  on  Iago,  because  without  a 
just  and  thorough  insight  of  him  Othello  cannot  be  rightly 
understood,  as  the  source  and  quality  of  his  action  require 
to  be  judged  from  the  influences  that  are  made  to  work 
upon  him.  The  Moor  has  for  the  most  part  been  re- 
garded as  specially  illustrating  the  workings  of  jealousy. 
Whether  there  be  any  thing,  and,  if  so,  how  much,  of  this 
passion  in  him,  may  indeed  be  questions  having  two  sides ; 
but  we  may  confidently  affirm  that  he  has  no  special  pre- 
disposition to  jealousy;  and  that  whatsoever  of  it  there 
may  be  in  him  does  not  grow  in  such  a  way,  nor  from  such 
causes,  that  it  can  justly  be  held  as  the  leading  feature  of 
his  character,  much  less  as  his  character  itself ;  though 
such  has  been  the  view  more  commonly  taken  of  him.  On 
this  point,  there  has  been  a  strange  ignoring  of  the  in- 
scrutable practices  in  which  his  passion  originates.  In- 

xxxiv 


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Introduction 


stead  of  going  behind  the  scene,  and  taking  its  grounds  of 
judgment  directly  from  the  subject  himself,  criticism  has 
trusted  overmuch  in  what  is  said  of  him  by  other  persons 
in  the  drama,  to  whom  he  must  perforce  seem  jealous,  be- 
cause they  know  and  can  know  nothing  of  the  devilish  cun- 
ning that  has  been  at  work  with  him.  And  the  common 
opinion  has  no  doubt  been  much  furthered  by  the  stage, 
Iago's  villainy  being  represented  as  so  open  and  barefaced, 
that  the  Moor  must  have  been  grossly  stupid  or  grossly 
jealous  not  to  see  through  him;  whereas,  in  fact,  so  subtle 
is  the  villain's  craft,  so  close  and  involved  are  his  designs, 
that  Othello  deserves  but  the  more  respect  and  honor  for 
being  taken  in  by  him. 

Coleridge  is  very  bold  and  clear  in  defense  of  the  Moor. 
"Othello,"  says  he,  "does  not  kill  Desdemona  in  jealousy, 
but  in  a  conviction  forced  upon  him  by  the  almost  super- 
human art  of  Iago, — such  a  conviction  as  any  man  would 
and  must  have  entertained,  who  had  believed  Iago's  hon- 
esty as  Othello  did.  We,  the  audience,  know  that  Iago  is 
a  villain  from  the  beginning;  but,  in  considering  the  es- 
sence of  the  Shakespearean  Othello,  we  must  persever- 
ingly  place  ourselves  in  his  situation,  and  under  his 
circumstances.  Then  we  shall  immediately  feel  the  funda- 
mental difference  between  the  solemn  agony  of  the  noble 
Moor,  and  the  wretched  fishing  jealousy  of  Leontes." 
Iago  describes  jealousy  as  "the  monster  that  doth  make 
the  meat  it  feeds  on."  And  Emilia  speaks  to  the  same 
sense,  when  Desdemona  acquits  her  husband  of  jealousy 
on  the  ground  that  she  has  never  given  him  cause:  "But 
jealous  souls  will  not  be  answer'd  so;  they  are  not  ever 
jealous  for  the  cause,  but  jealous,  for  they're  jealous." 

If  jealousy  be  indeed  such  a  thing  as  is  here  described, 
it  seems  clear  enough  that  a  passion  thus  self-generated 
and  self -sustained  ought  not  to  be  confounded  with  a  state 
of  mind  superinduced,  like  Othello's,  by  forgery  of  ex- 
ternal proofs, — a  forgery  wherein  himself  has  no  share 
but  as  the  victim.  And  we  may  safely  affirm  that  he  has 
no  aptitude  for  such  a  passion;  it  is  against  the  whole 

XXXV 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


grain  of  his  mind  and  character.  Iago  evidently  knows 
this ;  knows  the  Moor  to  be  incapable  of  spontaneous  dis- 
trust;  that  he  must  see,  before  he'll  doubt;  that  when  he 
doubts,  he'll  prove ;  and  that  when  he  has  proved,  he  will  re- 
tain his  honor  at  all  events,  and  retain  his  love,  if  it  be 
compatible  with  honor.  Accordingly,  lest  the  Moor  should 
suspect  himself  of  jealousy,  Iago  pointedly  warns  him  to 
beware  of  it;  puts  him  on  his  guard  against  such  self-delu- 
sions, that  so  his  mind  may  be  more  open  to  the  force  of 
evidence,  and  lest  from  fear  of  being  jealous  he  should 
entrench  himself  in  the  opposite  extreme,  and  so  be  proof 
against  conviction. 

The  struggle,  then,  in  Othello  is  not  between  love  and 
jealousy,  but  between  love  and  honor;  and  Iago's  machina- 
tions are  exactly  adapted  to  bring  these  two  latter  passions 
into  collision.  Indeed  it  is  the  Moor's  very  freedom  from 
a  jealous  temper,  that  enables  the  villain  to  get  the  mas- 
tery of  him.  Such  a  character  as  his,,  so  open,  so  gener- 
ous, so  confiding,  is  just  the  one  to  be  taken  in  the  strong 
toils  of  Iago's  cunning ;  to  have  escaped  them,  would  have 
argued  him  a  partaker  of  the  strategy  under  which  he 
falls.  It  is  both  the  law  and  the  impulse  of  a  high  and 
delicate  honor,  to  rely  on  another's  word,  unless  we  have 
proof  to  the  contrary ;  to  presume  that  things  and  per- 
sons are  what  they  seem:  and  it  is  an  impeachment  of  our 
own  veracity  to  suspect  falsehood  in  one  who  bears  a  char- 
acter for  truth.  Such  is  precisely  the  Moor's  condition 
in  respect  to  Iago ;  a  man  whom  he  has  long  known,  and 
never  caught  in  a  lie ;  whom  he  as  often  trusted,  and  never 
seen  cause  to  regret  it.  So  that,  in  our  judgment  of  the 
Moor,  we  ought  to  proceed  as  if  his  wife  were  really 
guilty  of  what  she  is  charged  with;  for,  were  she  ever  so 
guilty,  he  could  scarce  have  stronger  proof  than  he  has ; 
and  that  the  evidence  owes  all  its  force  to  the  plotting  and 
lying  of  another,  surely  makes  nothing  against  him. 

Nevertheless,  we  are  far  from  upholding  that  Othello 
does  not  at  any  stage  of  the  proceedings  show  signs  of 
jealousy.    For  the  elements  of  this  passion  exist  in  the 

xxxvi 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


strongest  and  healthiest  minds,  and  may  be  kindled  into  a 
transient  sway  over  their  motions,  or  at  least  so  as  to 
put  them  on  the  alert;  and  all  we  mean  to  affirm  is,  that 
jealousy  is  not  Othello's  characteristic,  and  does  not  form 
The  actuating  principle  of  his  conduct.  It  is  indeed  cer- 
tain that  he  doubts  before  he  has  proof ;  but  then  it  is 
also  certain  that  he  does  not  act  upon  his  doubt,  till  proof 
has  been  given  him.  As  to  the  rest,  it  seems  to  us  there 
can  be  no  dispute  about  the  thing,  but  only  about  the  term ; 
some  understanding  by  jealousy  one  thing,  some  another. 
We  presume  that  no  one  would  have  spoken  of  the  Moor  as 
acting  from  jealousy,  in  case  his  wife  had  really  been 
guilty :  his  course  would  then  have  been  regarded  simply  as 
the  result  of  conviction  upon  evidence;  which  is  to  our 
mind  nearly  decisive  of  the  question. 

Accordingly,  in  the  killing  of  Desdemona  we  have  the 
proper  marks  of  a  judicial  as  distinguished  from  a  re- 
vengeful act.  The  Moor  goes  about  her  death  calmly  and 
religiously,  as  a  duty  from  which  he  would  gladly  escape 
by  his  own  death,  if  he  could;  and  we  feel  that  his  heart 
is  wrung  with  inexpressible  anguish,  though  his  hand  is 
firm.  It  is  a  part  of  his  heroism,  that  as  he  prefers  her 
to  himself,  so  he  prefers  honor  to  her;  and  he  manifestly 
contemplates  her  death  as  a  sacrifice  due  to  the  institution 
which  he  fully  believes,  and  has  reason  to  believe,  she  has 
mocked  and  profaned.  So  that  we  cordially  subscribe  to 
the  words  of  Ulrici  respecting  him:  "Jealousy  and  re- 
venge seize  his  mind  but  transiently ;  they  spring  up  and 
pass  away  with  the  first  burst  of  passion ;  being  indeed  but 
the  momentary  phases  under  which  love  and  honor,  the  rul- 
ing principles  of  his  soul,  evince  the  deep  wounds  they  are 
suffering." 

The  general  custom  of  the  stage  has  been,  to  represent 
Othello  as  a  full-blooded  Negro;  and  criticism  has  been 
a  good  deal  exercised  of  late  on  the  question  whether 
Shakespeare  really  meant  him  for  such.  The  only  ex- 
pression in  the  play  that  would  fairly  infer  him  to  be  a 
Negro,  is  Roderigo's  "thick-lips."    But  Roderigo  there 

xxxvii 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


speaks  as  a  disappointed  lover,  seeking  to  revenge  him- 
self on  the  cause  of  his  disappointment.  We  all  know  how 
common  it  is  for  coxcombs  like  him,  when  balked  and  morti- 
fied in  rivalry  with  their  betters,  to  fly  off  into  extravagant 
terms  of  disparagement  and  reproach ;  their  petulant  van- 
ity easing  and  soothing  itself  by  calling  them  any  thing 
they  may  wish  them  to  be.  It  is  true,  the  Moor  is  sev- 
eral times  spoken  of  as  black ;  but  this  term  was  often 
used,  as  it  still  is,  of  a  tawny  skin  in  comparison  with 
one  that  is  fair.  So  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  the  heroine 
speaks  of  herself  as  being  "with  Phoebus'  amorous  pinches 
black";  and  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  Thurio, 
when  told  that  Silvia  says  his  face  is  a  fair  one,  replies, — 
"Nay,  then  the  wanton  lies:  my  face  is  black."  But,  in- 
deed, the  calling  a  dark-complexioned  white  person  black 
is  as  common  as  almost  any  form  of  speech  in  the  lan- 
guage. 

It  would  seem,  from  Othello's  being  so  often  called 
"the  Moor,"  that  there  ought  to  be  no  question  about 
what  the  Poet  meant  him  to  be.  For  the  difference  be- 
tween Moors  and  Negroes  was  probably  as  well  under- 
stood in  his  time  as  it  is  now ;  and  there  is  no  more  evi- 
dence in  this  play  that  he  thought  them  the  same,  than 
there  is  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  where  the  Prince  of 
Morocco  comes  as  a  suitor  to  Portia,  and  in  a  stage-direc- 
tion of  the  old  quarto  is  called  "a  tawny  Moor."  Othello 
was  a  Mauritanian  prince,  for  Iago  in  Act  IV,  sc.  ii, 
speaks  of  his  purposed  retirement  to  Mauritania  as  his 
home.  Consistently  with  this,  the  same  speaker  in  another 
place  uses  terms  implying  him  to  be  a  native  of  Barbary, 
Mauritania  being  the  old  name  of  one  of  the  Barbary 
States.  Iago,  to  be  sure,  is  an  unscrupulous  liar;  but 
then  he  has  more  cunning  than  to  lie  when  telling  the 
truth  will  stand  with  his  purpose,  as  it  evidently  will  here. 
So  that  there  needs  no  scruple  about  endorsing  the  argu- 
ment of  White,  in  his  Shakespeare's  Scholar. 
"Shakespeare,"  says  he,  "nowhere  calls  Othello  an  Ethi- 
opian, and  also  does  not  apply  the  term  to  Aaron  in  the 

xxxviii 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


horrible  Titus  Andronicus;  but  he  continually  speaks  of 
both  as  Moors ;  and  as  he  has  used  the  first  word  else- 
where, and  certainly  had  use  for  it  as  a  reproach  in  the 
mouth  of  Iago,  it  seems  that  he  must  have  been  fully 
aware  of  the  distinction  in  grade  between  the  two  races. 
Indeed  I  never  could  see  the  least  reason  for  supposing 
that  Shakespeare  intended  Othello  to  be  represented  as  a 
Negro.  With  the  Negroes,  the  Venetians,  had  nothing  to 
do,  that  we  know  of ,  /and  could  not  have  in  the  natural 
course  of  things ;  whereas,  with  their  over-the-way  neigh- 
bors, the  Moors,  they  were  continually  brought  in  con- 
tact. These  were  a  warlike,  civilized,  and  enterprising 
race,  which  could  furnish  an  Othello." 

That  the  question  may,  if  possible,  be  thoroughly  shut 
up  and  done  with,  we  will  add  the  remarks  of  Coleridge  on 
the  aforesaid  custom  of  the  stage:  "Even  if  we  supposed 
this  an  uninterrupted  tradition  of  the  theater,  and  that 
Shakespeare  himself,  from  want  of  scenes,  and  the  ex- 
perience that  nothing  could  be  made  too  marked  for  the 
senses  of  his  audience,  had  practically  sanctioned  it, — 
would  this  prove  aught  concerning  his  own  intention  as 
a  poet  for  all  ages?  Can  we  imagine  him  so  utterly  ig- 
norant as  to  make  a  barbarous  Negro  plead  royal  birth, — 
at  a  time,  too,  when  Negroes  were  not  known  except  as 
slaves?  As  for  Iago's  language  to  Brabantio,  it  implies 
merely  that  Othello  was  a  Moor,  that  is,  black.  Though 
I  think  the  rivalry  of  Roderigo  sufficient  to  account  for 
his  willful  confusion  of  Moor  and  Negro;  yet,  even  if 
compelled  to  give  this  up,  I  should  think  it  only  adapted 
for  the  acting  of  the  day,  and  should  complain  of  an  enor- 
mity built  on  a  single  word,  in  direct  contradiction  to 
Iago's  'Barbary  horse.'  Besides,  if  we  could  in  good 
earnest  believe  Shakespeare  ignorant  of  the  distinction, 
still  why  should  we  adopt  one  disagreeable  possibility,  in- 
stead of  a  ten  times  greater  and  more  pleasing  probability? 
It  is  a  common  error  to  mistake  the  epithets  applied  by 
the  dramatis  personce  to  each  other,  as  truly  descriptive  of 
what  the  audience  ought  to  see  or  know.    No  doubt. 

xxxix 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


Desdemona  'saw  Othello's  visage  in  his  mind' ;  yet,  as  we 
are  constituted,  and  most  surely  as  an  English  audience 
was  disposed  in  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
it  would  be  something  monstrous  to  conceive  this  beauti- 
ful Venetian  girl  falling  in  love  with  a  veritable  Negro. 
It  would  argue  a  disproportionateness,  a  want  of  balance  in 
Desdemona,  which  Shakespeare  does  not  appear  to  have  in 
the  least  contemplated." 

The  character  of  Othello,  direct  and  single  in  itself,  is 
worked  out  with  great  breadth  and  clearness.  And  here 
again  the  first  Act  is  peculiarly  fruitful  of  significant 
points ;  furnishing,  in  respect  of  him  as  of  Iago,  the 
seminal  ideas  of  which  the  subsequent  details  are  the  nat- 
ural issues  and  offshoots.  In  the  opening  scene  we  have 
Iago  telling  various  lies  about  the  Moor;  yet  his  lying  is 
so  managed  as,  while  affecting  its  immediate  purpose  on 
the  gull,  to  be  at  the  same  time  more  or  less  suggestive  of 
the  truth:  he  caricatures  Othello,  but  is  too  artful  a  cari- 
caturist to  let  the  peculiar  features  of  the  subject  be  lost 
in  an  excess  of  misrepresentation ;  that  is,  there  is  truth 
enough  in  what  he  says,  to  make  it  pass  with  one  who 
wishes  it  true,  and  whose  mind  is  too  weak  to  prevent  such 
a  wish  from  growing  into  belief. 

Othello's  mind  is  strongly  charged  with  the  natural  en- 
thusiasm of  high  principle  and  earnest  feeling,  and  this 
gives  a  certain  elevated  and  imaginative  turn  to  his  man- 
ner of  thought  and  speech.  In  the  deportment  of  such  a 
man  there  is  apt  to  be  something  upon  which  a  cold  and 
crafty  malice  can  easily  stick  the  imputation  of  being 
haughty  and  grandiloquent,  or  of  "loving  his  own  pride 
and  purposes."  Especially,  when  urged  with  unseason- 
able or  impertinent  solicitations,  his  answers  are  apt  to.be 
in  such  a  style,  that  they  can  hardly  pass  through  an 
Iagoish  mind,  without  catching  the  air  of  strutting  and 
bombastic  evasion.  For  a  man  like  Othello  will  not  stoop 
to  be  the  advocate  or  apologist  of  himself :  it  is  enough 
that  he  stands  justified  to  his  own  sense  of  right,  and  if 
others  dislike  his  course,  this  does  not  shake  him,  as  he 

xl 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


did  not  take  it  with  a  view  to  please  them:  he  acts  from 
his  own  mind;  and  to  explain  his  conduct,  save  where  he 
is  responsible,  looks  like  soliciting  an  endorsement  from 
others,  as  though  the  consciousness  of  rectitude  were  not 
enough  to  sustain  him.  Such  a  man,  if  his  fortune  and 
his-  other  parts  be  at  all  in  proportion,  commonly  suc- 
ceeds;  for  by  his  strength  of  character  he  naturally  creates 
a  sphere  which  himself  alone  can  fill,  and  so  makes  him- 
self necessary.  On  the  other  hand,  a  subtle  and  malig- 
nant rogue,  like  Iago,  while  fearing  to  be  known  as  the 
enemy  of  such  a  man,  envies  his  success,  and  from  this 
envy  affects  contempt  of  his  qualities.  For  the  proper 
triumph  of  a  bad  man  over  his  envied  superiors  is,  to  scoff 
at  the  very  gifts  which  gnaw  him. 

The  intimations,  then,  derived  from  Iago  lead  us  to  re- 
gard the  Moor,  before  we  meet  with  him,  as  one  who  de- 
liberates calmly,  and  therefore  decides  firmly.  His  refus- 
ing to  explain  his  conduct  where  he  is  not  responsible,  is 
a  pledge  that  he  will  not  shrink  from  any  responsibility 
where  he  truly  owes  it.  In  his  first  reply  when  urged  by 
Iago  to  elude  Brabantio's  pursuit,  our  expectations  are 
made  good.  We  see  that,  as  he  acts  from  honor  and  prin- 
ciple, so  he  will  cheerfully  abide  the  consequences.  Full 
of  equanimity  and  firmness,  he  is  content  to  let  the  rea- 
sons of  his  course  appear  in  the  issues  thereof ;  whereas 
Iago  delights  in  stating  his  reasons,  as  giving  scope  for 
mental  activity  and  display. 

From  his  characteristic  intrepidity  and  calmness,  the 
Moor,  as  we  learn  in  the  sequel,  has  come  to  be  esteemed, 
by  those  who  know  him  best,  as  one  whom  "passion  can- 
not shake."  For  the  passions  are  in  him  botrT  tempered 
and  strengthened  by  the  energy  of  higher  principles ;  and, 
if  kept  under  reason,  the  stronger  they  are,  the  more  they 
exalt  reason.  This  feature  of  Othello  is  well  seen  at  his 
meeting  with  Brabantio  and  attendants,  when  the  parties 
are  on  the  point  of  fighting,  and  he  quiets  them  by  ex- 
claiming, "Keep  up  your  bright  swords,  for  the  dew  will 
rust  them ;"  where  the  belligerent  spirit  is  as  much  charmed 

xli 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


down  by  his  playful  logic,  as  overawed  by  his  sternness 
of  command.  So,  too,  when  Brabantio  calls  out,  "Down 
with  him,  thief!"  and  he  replies,  "Good  signior,  you  shall 
more  command  with  years  than  with  your  weapons." 

Such  is  our  sturdy  warrior's  habitual  carriage:  no  up- 
start exigency  disconcerts  him ;  no  obloquy  exasperates 
him  to  violence  or  recrimination:  peril,  perplexity,  provo- 
cation rather  augment  than  impair  his  self-possession;  and 
the  more  deeply  he  is  stirred,  the  more  calmly  and  steadily 
he  acts.  This  calmness  of  intensity  is  most  finely  dis- 
played in  his  address  to  the  Senate,  where  the  words, 
though  they  fall  on  the  ear  as  softly  as  an  evening  breeze, 
seem  charged  with  life  from  every  part  of  his  being.  All 
is  grace  and  modesty  and  gentleness,  yet  what  strength 
and  dignity!  the  union  of  perfect  repose  and  impassioned 
energy.  Perhaps  the  finest  point  of  contrast  between 
Othello  and  Iago  lies  in  the  method  of  their  several  minds, 
lago  is  morbidly  introversive  and.  self -explicative ;  his 
mind  is  ever  busy  spinning  out  its  own  contents ;  and  he 
takes  no  pleasure  either  in  viewing  or  in  showing  things, 
till  he  has  baptized  them  in  his  own  spirit,  and  then  seems 
chuckling  inwardly  as  he  holds  them  up  reeking  with  the 
slime  he  has  dipped  them  in.  In  Othello,  on  the  contrary, 
every  thing  is  direct,  healthy,  objective;  and  he  reproduces 
in  transparent  diction  the  truth  as  revealed  to  him  from 
without ;  his  mind  being  like  a  clear,  even  mirror  which,  in- 
visible itself,  renders  back  in  its  exact  shape  and  color  what- 
^  soever  stands  before  it. 

We  know  of  nothing  in  Shakespeare  that  has  this  qual- 
ity more  conspicuous  than  the  Moor's  account  "how  he  did 
thrive  in  this  fair  lady's  love,  and  she  in  his."  The  dark 
man  eloquent  literally  speaks  in  pictures.  We  see  the 
silent  blushing  maiden  moving  about  her  household  tasks, 
ever  and  anon  turning  her  eye  upon  the  earnest  warrior; 
leaving  the  door  open  as  she  goes  out  of  the  room,  that 
she  may  catch  the  tones  of  his  voice ;  hastening  back  to 
her  father's  side,  as  though  drawn  to  the  spot  by  some 
new  impulse  of  filial  attachment;  afraid  to  look  the  speaker 

xlii 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


in  the  face,  yet  unable  to  keep  out  of  his  presence,  and 
drinking  in  with  ear  and  heart  every  word  of  his 
marvelous  tale:  the  Moor,  meanwhile,  waxing  more  elo- 
quent when  this  modest  listener  was  by,  partly  because  he 
saw  she  was  interested,  and  partly  because  he  wished  to  in- 
terest her  still  more.  Yet  we  believe  all  he  says,  for  the 
virtual  presence  of  the  things  he  describes  enables  us,  as  it 
were,  to  test  his  fidelity  of  representation. 

In  his  simplicity,  however,  he  lets  out  a  truth  of  which 
he  seems  not  to  have  been  aware.  At  Brabantio's  fireside 
he  has  been  unwittingly  making  love  by  his  manner,  be- 
fore he  was  even  conscious  of  loving;  and  thought  he  was 
but  listening  for  a  disclosure  of  the  lady's  feelings^'hile 
he  was  really  soliciting  a  response  to  his  own :  for  this  is 
a  matter  wherein  heart  often  calls  and  answers  to  heart, 
without  giving  the  head  any  notice  of  its  proceedings. 
His  quick  perception  of  the  interest  he  had  awakened  is 
a  confession  of  the  interest  he  felt,  the  state  of  his  mind 
coming  out  in  his  anxiety  to  know  that  of  hers.  And  how 
natural  it  was  that  he  should  thus  honestly  think  he  was 
but  returning  her  passion,  while  it  was  his  own  passion 
that  caused  him  to  see  or  suspect  she  had  any  to  be  re- 
turned !  And  so  she  seems  to  have  understood  the  mat- 
ter ;  whereupon,  appreciating  the  modesty  that  kept  him 
silent,  she  gave  him  a  hint  of  encouragement  to  speak. 
In  his  feelings,  moreover,  respect  keeps  pace  with  affec- 
tion ;  and  he  involuntarily  seeks  some  tacit  assurance  of  a 
return  of  his  passion  as  a  sort  of  permission  to  cherish 
and  confess  it.  It  is  this  feeling  that  originates  the  deli- 
cate, reverential  courtesy,  the  ardent,  yet  distant,  and  there- 
fore beautiful  regards,  with  which  a  truly  honorable  mind 
instinctively  attires  itself  towards  its  best  object; — a  feel- 
ing that  throws  a  majestic  grace  around  the  most  unprom- 
ising figure,  and  endows  the  plainest  features  with  some- 
thing more  eloquent  than  beauty. 

The  often-alleged  unfitness  of  Othello's  match  has  been 
mainly  disposed  of  by  what  we  have  already  said  respect- 
ing his  origin.    The  rest  of  it,  if  there  be  any,  may  be 

xliii  ^ 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


safely  left  to  the  facts  of  his  being  honored  by  the  Vene- 
tian Senate  and  of  his  being  a  cherished  guest  at  Bra- 
bantio's  fireside.  At  all  events,  we  cannot  help  thinking 
that  the  noble  Moor  and  his  sweet  lady  have  the  very 
sort  of  resemblance  which  people  thus  united  ought  to 
have;  and  their  likeness  seems  all  the  better  for  being 
joined  with  so  much  of  unlikeness.  It  is  the  chaste,  beau- 
tiful wedlock  of  meekness  and  magnanimity,  where  the  in- 
ward correspondence  stands  the  more  approved  for  the  out- 
ward diversity ;  and  reminds  us  of  what  we  are  too  apt  to 
forget,  that  the  stout,  valiant  soul  is  the  chosen  home  of 
reverence  and  tenderness.  Our  heroic  warrior's  dark, 
rough  exterior  is  found  to  enclose  a  heart  strong  as  a 
giant's,  yet  soft  and  sweet  as  infancy.  Such  a  marriage 
of  bravery  and  gentleness  proclaims  that  beauty  is  an  over- 
match for  strength;  and  that  true  delicacy  is  among  the 
highest  forms  of  power. 

Equally  beautiful  is  the  fact,  that  Desdemona  has  the 
heart  to  recognize  the  proper  complement  of  herself  be- 
neath such  an  uninviting  appearance.  Perhaps  none  but 
so  pure  and  gentle  a  being  could  have  discerned  the  real 
gentleness  of  Othello  through  so  many  obscurations.  To 
her  fine  sense,  that  tale  of  wild  adventures  and  mischances, 
which  often  did  beguile  her  of  her  tears, — a  tale  wherein 
another  might  have  seen  but  the  marks  of  a  rude,  coarse, 
animal  strength, — disclosed  the  history  of  a  most  meek, 
brave,  manly  soul.  Nobly  blind  to  whatsoever  is  repulsive 
in  his  manhood's  vesture  of  accidents,  her  thoughts  are 
filled  with  "his  honors  and  his  valiant  parts" ;  his  ungra- 
cious aspect  is  lost  to  her  in  his  graces  of  character;  and 
the  shrine,  that  were  else  so  unattractive  to  look  upon,  is 
made  beautiful  by  the  life  with  which  her  chaste  eye  sees  it 
irradiated. 

In  herself,  Desdemona  is  not  more  interesting  than  sev- 
eral of  the  Poet's  women ;  but  perhaps  none  of  the  oth- 
ers is  in  a  condition  so  proper  for  developing  the  inner- 
most springs  of  pathos.  In  her  characterful  sufferings 
there  is  a  nameless  something  that  haunts  the  reader's  mind, 

xliv 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


and  hangs  like  a  spell  of  compassionate  sorrow  upon  the 
beatings  of  his  heart :  his  thoughts  revert  to  her  and  linger 
about  her,  as  under  a  mysterious  fascination  of  pity  which 
they  cannot  shake  off,  and  which  is  only  kept  from  being 
painful  by  the  sacred  charm  of  beauty  and  eloquence  that 
blends  with  the  feeling  while  kindling  it.  It  is  remark- 
able, that  the  sympathies  are  not  so  deeply  moved  in  the 
scene  of  her  death,  as  in  that  where  by  the  blows  of  her 
husband's  hand  and  tongue  she  is  made  to  feel  that  she 
has  lost  him.  Too  innocent  to  suspect  that  she  is  sus- 
pected, she  cannot  for  a  long  time  understand  nor  imagine 
the  motive  of  his  harshness ;  and  her  errings  in  quest  of  ex- 
«  cuses  and  apologies  for  him  are  deeply  pathetic,  inasmuch 
as  they  manifestly  spring  from  her  incapability  of  an 
impure  thought.  And  the  sense  that  the  heart  of  his  con- 
fidence is  gone  from  her,  and  for  what  cause  it  is  gone, 
comes  upon  her  like  a  dead  stifling  weight  of  agony  and 
woe,  which  benumbs  her  to  all  other  pains.  She  does  not 
show  any  thing  that  can  be  properly  called  pangs  of  suf- 
fering; the  effect  is  too  deep  for  that;  the  blow  falling 
so  heavy  that  it  stuns  her  sensibilities  into  a  sort  of 
lethargy. 

Desdemona's  character  may  almost  be  said  to  consist 
in  the  union  of  purity  and  impressibility.  All  her  organs 
of  sense  and  motion  seem  perfectly  ensouled,  and  her  vis- 
ible form  instinct  in  every  part  with  the  spirit  and  intelli- 
gence of  moral  life. 

"We  understood 
Her  by  her  sight;  her  pure  and  eloquent  blood 
Spoke  in  her  cheeks,  and  so  distinctly  wrought, 
That  one  might  almost  say  her  body  thought." 

Hence  her  father  describes  her  as  a  "maiden  never  bold; 
of  spirit  so  still  and  quiet,  that  her  motion  blush'd  at 
itself."  Which  gives  the  idea  of  a  being  whose  whole 
frame  is  so  receptive  of  influences  and  impressions  from 
without,  who  lives  so  entranced  amid  a  world  of  beauty 
and  delight,  that  her  soul  keeps  ever  looking  and  listen- 
ing; and  if  at  any  time  she  chance  upon  a  stray  thought 

xlv 


/ 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


or  vision  of  herself,  she  shrinks  back  surprised  and  abashed, 
as  though  she  had  caught  herself  in  the  presence  of  a 
stranger  whom  modesty  kept  her  from  looking  in  the  face. 
It  is  through  this  most  delicate  impressibility  that  she 
sometimes  gets  frightened  out  of  her  real  character;  as  in 
her  equivocation  about  the  handkerchief,  and  her  child- 
like pleading  for  life  in  the  last,  scene;  where  her  perfect 
candor  and  resignation  are  overmastered  by  sudden  im- 
pressions of  terror. 

But,  with  all  her  openness  to  influences  from  without, 
she  is  still  susceptive  only  of  the  good.  No  element  of 
impurity  can  insinuate  itself.  Her  nature  seems  wrought 
about  with  some  subtle  texture  of  moral  sympathies  and 
antipathies,  which  selects  as  by  instinct  whatsoever  is  pure, 
without  taking  any  thought  or  touch  of  the  evil  mixed 
with  it.  Even  Iago's  moral  oil-of-vitriol  cannot  eat  a 
passage  into  her  mind:  from  his  envenomed  wit  she  ex- 
tracts the  element  of  harmless  mirth,  without  receiving  or 
suspecting  the  venom  with  which  it  is  charged.  Thus  the 
world's  contagions  pass  before  her,  yet  dare  not  touch 
nor  come  near  her,  because  she  has  nothing  to  sympathize 
with  them  or  own  their  acquaintance.  And  so  her  life  is 
like  a  quiet  stream, 

"In  whose  calm  depth  the  beautiful  and  pure 
Alone  are  mirror'd;  which,  though  shapes  of  ill 
Do  hover  round  its  surface,  glides  in  light, 
And  takes  no  shadow  from  them." 

Desdemona's  heroism,  we  fear,  is  not  of  the  kind  to 
take  very  well  with  such  an  age  of  individual  ensconcement 
as  the  present.  Though  of  a  "high  and  plenteous  wit  and 
invention,"  this  quality  never  makes  any  special  report  of 
itself:  like  Cordelia,  all  the  parts  of  her  being  speak  in 
such  harmony  that  the  intellectual  tones  may  not  be  dis- 
tinctly heard.  Besides,  her  mind  and  character  were 
formed  under  that  old-fashioned  way  of  thinking  which, 
regarding  man  and  wife  as  socially  one,  legislated  round 
them,  not  between  them;  so  that  the  wife  naturally  sought 

xlvi 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


protection  in  her  husband,  instead  of  resorting  to  legal 
methods  for  protection  against  him.  Affection  does  in- 
deed fill  her  with  courage  and  energy  of  purpose:  she  is 
heroic  to  link  her  life  with  the  man  she  loves ;  heroic  to  do 
and  suffer  with  him  and  for  him  after  she  is  his ;  but,  poor 
gentle  soul!  she  knows  no  heroism  that  can  prompt  her, 
in  respect  of  him,  to  cast  aside  the  awful  prerogative  of 
def enselessness :  that  she  has  lost  him,  is  what  hurts  her; 
and  this  is  a  hurt  that  cannot  be  salved  with  anger  or  re- 
sentment: so  that  her  only  strength  is  to  be  meek,  uncom- 
plaining, submissive  in  the  worst  that  his  hand  may  exe- 
cute. Swayed  by  that  power  whose  "favorite  seat  is  fee- 
ble woman's  breast,"  she  is  of  course  "a  child  to  chiding," 
and  sinks  beneath  unkindness,  instead  of  having  the  spirit 
to  outface  it. 

They  err  greatly,  who  think  to  school  Desdemona  in  the 
doctrine  of  woman's  rights.  When  her  husband  has  been 
shaken  from  his  confidence  in  her  truth  and  loyalty,  what 
can  she  care  for  her  rights  as  a  woman?  To  be  under  the 
necessity  of  asserting  them,  is  to  have  lost  and  more  than 
lost  them.  A  constrained  abstinence  from  evil  deeds  and 
unkind  words  bears  no  price  with  her;  and  to  be  sheltered 
from  the  wind  and  storm,  is  worse  than  nothing,  unless  she 
have  a  living  fountain  of  light  and  warmth  in  the  being 
that  shelters  her.  But,  indeed,  the  beauty  of  the  woman 
is  so  hid  in  the  affection  and  obedience  of  the  wife,  that 
it  seems  almost  a  profanation  to  praise  it.  As  brave  to 
suffer  wrong  as  she  is  fearful  to  do  it,  there  is  a  holiness 
in  her  mute  resignation  which  ought,  perhaps,  to  be  kept, 
where  the  Poet  has  left  it,  veiled  from  all  save  those  whom 
a  severe  discipline  of  humanity  may  have  qualified  for  duly 
respecting  it.  At  all  events,  whoever  would  get  at  her  se- 
cret, let  him  study  her  as  a  pupil,  not  as  a  critic ;  and  until 
his  inmost  heart  speaks  her  approval,  let  him  rest  as- 
sured that  he  is  not  competent  to  judge  her.  But  if  he 
have  the  gift  to  see  that  her  whole  course,  from  the  first 
intimation  of  the  gentle,  submissive  daughter,  to  the  last 
groan  of  the  ever-loving,  ever-obedient,  broken-hearted 

xlvii 


Introduction 


OTHELLO 


wife,  is  replete  with  the  beauty  and  grace  and  holiness  of 
womanhood,  then  let  him  weep,  weep,  for  her ;  so  may  he  de- 
part "a  sadder  and  a  wiser  man."  As  for  her  unresisting 
submissiveness,  let  no  man  dare  to  defend  it!  Assuredly, 
we  shall  do  her  a  great  wrong,  if  we  suppose  for  a  mo- 
ment that  she  would  not  rather  die  by  her  husband's  hand, 
than  owe  her  life  to  any  protection  against  him.  What, 
indeed,  were  life,  what  could  it  be  to  her,  since  suspicion 
has  fallen  on  her  innocency  ?  That  her  husband  could  not, 
would  not,  dare  not  wrong  her,  even  because  she  had 
trusted  in  him,  and  because  in  her  sacred  defenselessness 
she  could  not  resist  nor  resent  the  wrong, — this  is  the 
only  protection  from  which  she  would  not  pray  to  be  de- 
livered. 

Coleridge  has  justly  remarked  upon  the  art  shown  in 
Iago,  that  the  character,  with  all  its  inscrutable  deprav- 
ity, neither  revolts  nor  seduces  the  mind:  the  interest  of 
Jiis  part  amounts  almost  to  fascination,  yet  there  is  not 
the  slightest  moral  taint  or  infection  about  it.  Hardly 
less  wonderful  is  the  Poet's  skill  in  carrying  the  Moor 
through  such  a  course  of  undeserved  infliction,  without  any 
loosening  from  him  of  our  sympathy  or  respect.  Deep 
and  intense  as  is  the  feeling  that  goes  along  with  Desde- 
mona,  Othello  fairly  divides  it  with  her:  nay,  more;  the 
virtues  and  sufferings  of  each  are  so  managed  as  to 
heighten  the  interest  of  the  other.  The  impression  still 
waits  upon  him,  that  he  does  "nought  in  hate,  but  all  in 
honor."  Nor  is  the  mischief  made  to  work  through  any 
vice  or  weakness  perceived  or  left  in  him,  but  rather 
through  such  qualities  as  lift  him  higher  in  our  regard. 
Under  the  conviction  that  she,  in  whom  he  had  built  his 
faith  and  garnered  up  his  heart, — that  she,  in  whom  he 
looked  to  find  how  much  more  blessed  it  is  to  give  than  to 
receive,  has  desecrated  all  his  gifts,  and  turned  his  very 
religion  into  sacrilege; — under  this  conviction,  all  the 
poetry,  the  grace,  the  consecration,  every  thing  that  can 
beautify  or  gladden  existence  is  gone;  his  whole  being, 
with  its  freight  of  hopes,  memories,  affections,  i«  reduced 

xlviii 


THE  MOOR 


Introduction 


to  a  total  wreck ;  a  last  farewell  to  whatsoever  has  made 
life  attractive,  the  conditions,  motives,  prospects  of  noble 
achievement,  is  all  there  is  left  him:  in  brief,  he  feels  lit- 
erally unmade,  robbed  not  only  of  the  laurels  he  has  won, 
but  of  the  spirit  that  manned  him  to  the  winning  of  them ; 
so  that  he  can  neither  live  nobly  nor  nobly  die,  but  is 
doomed  to  a  sort  of  living  death,  an  object  of  scorn  and 
loathing  unto  himself.  In  this  state  of  mind,  no  wonder 
his  thoughts  reel  and  totter,  and  cling  convulsively  to  his 
honor,  which  is  the  only  thing  that  now  remains  to  him, 
until  in  his  efforts  to  rescue  this  he  loses  all,  and  has  no 
refuge  but  in  self-destruction.  He  approaches  the  aw- 
ful task  in  the  bitterness  as  well  as  the  calmness  of  despair. 
In  sacrificing  his  love  to  save  his  honor,  he  really  performs 
the  most  heroic  self-sacrifice;  for  the  taking  of  Desde- 
mona's  life  is  to  him  something  worse  than  to  lose  his 
own.  Nor  could  he  ever  have  loved  her  so  much,  had  he 
not  loved  honor  more.  Her  love  for  him,  too,  is  based 
upon  the  very  principle  that  now  prompts  and  nerves  him 
to  the  sacrifice.  And  as  at  last  our  pity  for  her  rises  into 
awe,  so  our  awe  of  him  melts  into  pity;  the  catastrophe 
thus  blending  their  several  virtues  and  sufferings  into  one 
most  profound,  solemn,  sweetly-mournful  impression. 
"Othello,"  says  Coleridge,  "had  no  life  but  in  Desdemona: 
— the  belief  that  she,  his  angel,  had  fallen  from  the  heaven 
of  her  native  innocence,  wrought  a  civil  war  in  his  heart. 
She  is  his  counterpart ;  and,  like  him,  is  almost  sanctified 
in  our  eyes  by  her  absolute  unsuspiciousness,  and  holy  en- 
tireness  of  love.  As  the  curtain  drops,  which  do  we  pity 
the  most?" 


xhx 


COMMENTS 


By  Shakespearean  Scholars 
OTHELLO 

In  Othello,  Shakespeare  means  us  to  recognize  the  man 
of  action,  whose  life  has  been  spent  in  deeds  of  military 
prowess  and  adventure,  but  who  has  had  little  experience 
either  of  the  ways  of  society  or  of  the  intrigues  of  weaker 
men,  Moreover,  he  is  a  man  apart.  A  renegade  from 
his  own  faith  and  an  outcast  from  his  own  people,  he  is, 
indeed,  the  valued  servant  of  the  Venetian  state,  but  is  not 
regarded  as  on  an  equality  with  its  citizens,  and  that 
though,  as  being  of  kingly  descent,  he  regards  himself  as 
being  at  least  the  equal  of  its  republican  citizens.  A 
homeless  man,  who  had  never  experienced  the  soothing  in- 
fluences of  domesticity.  In  short,  a  man  strong  in  action 
but  weak  in  intellectuality,  of  natural  nobility  of  character, 
knowing  no  guile  in  himself  and  incapable  of  seeing  it  in 
others;  but  withal  sensitive  on  the  subject  of  his  birth, 
and  inclined  to  regard  himself  as  an  inheritor  of  the  curse 
of  outcast  Ishmael. — Ransome,  Short  Studies  of  Shake- 
speare's Plots. 

Othello  has  a  strong  and  healthy  mind  and  a  vivid  im- 
agination, but  they  deal  entirely  with  first  impressions, 
with  obvious  facts.  If  he  trusts  a  man,  he  trusts  him 
without  the  faintest  shadow  of  reserve.  Iago's  suggestion 
that  Desdemona  is  false  comes  upon  him  like  a  thunder- 
bolt. He  knows  this  man  to  be  honest,  his  every  word  the 
absolute  truth.  He  is  stunned,  and  his  mind  accepts 
specious  reasonings  passively  and  without  examination. 
Yet  his  love  is  so  intense  that  he  struggles  against  his  own 


Comments 


OTHELLO 


nature,  and  for  a  time  compels  himself  to  think,  though 
not  upon  the  great  question  whether  she  is  false.  He  can- 
not bring  his  intellect  to  attack  Iago's  conclusions,  and 
only  argues  the  minor  point:  Why  is  she  false?  But 
even  this  effort  is  too  much  for  him.  It  is,  I  have  said, 
against  nature ;  and  nature,  after  the  struggle  has  been 
carried  on  unceasingly  for  hours,  revenges  herself — he 
falls  into  a  fit.  That  this  is  the  legitimate  climax  of  over- 
powering emotion  on  an  intensely  real  and  single  charac- 
ter is  plain.  This  obstruction  and  chaos  of  the  faculties  is 
the  absolute  opposite  of  the  brilliant  life  into  which  Ham- 
let's intellect  leaps  on  its  contact  with  tremendous  realities. 
— Rose,  Sudden  Emotion:  Its  Effect  upon  Different  Char- 
acters as  Shown  by  Shakspere. 

What  a  fortunate  mistake  that  the  Moor,  under  which 
name  a  baptized  Saracen  of  the  northern  coast  of  Africa 
was  unquestionably  meant  in  the  novel,  has  been  made 
by  Shakespeare,  in  every  respect,  a  negro !  We  recognize 
in  Othello  the  wild  nature  of  that  glowing  zone  which  gen- 
erates the  most  raging  beasts  of  prey  and  the  most  deadly 
poisons,  tamed  only  in  appearance  by  the  desire  of  fame, 
by  foreign  laws  of  honor,  and  by  nobler  and  milder  man- 
ners. His  jealousy  is  not  the  jealousy  of  the  heart,  which 
is  incompatible  wTith  the  tenderest  feeling  and  adoration 
of  the  beloved  object;  it  is  of  that  sensual  kind  from 
which,  in  burning  climes,  has  sprung  the  disgraceful  ill- 
treatment  of  women  and  many  other  unnatural  usages. 
A  drop  of  this  poison  flows  in  his  veins,  and  sets  his  whole 
blood  in  the  most  disorderly  fermentation.  The  Moor 
seems  noble,  frank,  confiding,  grateful  for  the  love  shown 
him ;  and  he  is  all  this,  and,  moreover,  a  hero  that  spurns 
at  danger,  a  worthy  leader  of  an  army,  a  faithful  servant 
of  the  state;  but  the  mere  physical  force  of  passion  puts 
to  flight  in  one  moment  all  his  acquired  and  accustomed 
virtues,  and  gives  the  upper  hand  to  the  savage  in  him 
over  the  moral  man.  The  tyranny  of  the  blood  over  the 
will  betrays  itself  even  in  the  expression  of  his  desire  of 

li 


Comments 


OTHELLO 


revenge  against  Cassio.  In  his  repentance  when  he  views 
the  evidence  of  the  deed,  a  genuine  tenderness  for  his  mur- 
dered wife,  and  the  painful  feeling  of  his  annihilated 
honor,  at  last  burst  forth;  and  he  every  now  and  then 
assails  himself  with  the  rage  a  despot  shows  in  punishing 
a  runaway  slave.  He  suffers  as  a  double  man;  at  once  in 
the  higher  and  lower  sphere  into  which  his  being  was  di- 
vided.— Scheegel,  Lectures  on  Dramatic  Art  and  Liter- 
ature. 

DESDEMONA 

The  suffering  of  Desdemona  is,  unless  I  mistake,  the 
most  nearly  intolerable  spectacle  that  Shakespeare  offers 
us.  For  one  thing,  it  is  mere  suffering;  and,  ceteris 
paribus,  that  is  much  worse  to  witness  than  suffering  that 
issues  in  action.  Desdemona  is  helplessly  passive.  She 
can  do  nothing  whatever.  She  cannot  retaliate  even  in 
speech ;  no,  not  even  in  silent  feeling.  And  the  chief  rea- 
son of  her  helplessness  only  makes  the  sight  of  her  suf- 
fering more  exquisitely  painful.  She  is  helpless  because 
her  nature  is  infinitely  sweet  and  her  love  absolute.  I 
would  not  challenge  Mr.  Swinburne's  statement  that  we 
pity  Othello  even  more  than  Desdemona ;  but  we  watch 
Desdemona  with  more  unmitigated  distress.  We  are  never 
wholly  uninfluenced  by  the  feeling  that  Othello  is  a  man 
contending  with  another  man;  but  Desdemona's  suffering 
is  like  that  of  the  most  loving  of  dumb  creatures  tortured 
without  cause  by  the  being  he  adores. — Bradley,  Shake- 
spearean Tragedy. 

Nothing  in  poetry  has  ever  been  written  more  pathetic 
than  the  scene  preceding  Desdemona's  death;  I  confess  I 
almost  always  turn  away  my  eyes  from  the  poor  girl  with 
her  infinitely  touching  song  of  "Willow,  willow,  willow," 
and  I  would  fain  ask  the  Poet  whether  his  tragic  arrow, 
which  always  hits  the  mark,  does  not  here  pierce  almost 
too  deeply.  I  would  not  call  the  last  word  with  which 
she  dies  a  lie,  or  even  a  "noble"  lie;  this  qualification  has 

Hi 


THE  MOOR 


Comments' 


been  wretchedly  misused.  The  lie  with  which  Desdemona 
dies  is  divine  truth,  too  good  to  come  within  the  compass 
of  an  earthly  moral  code. — Horn,  Shakespeare's  Schau- 
spiele  erldutert. 

THE  MURDER  OF  DESDEMONA 

When  Othello  thus  bows  his  own  lofty  nature  before 
the  groveling  but  most  acute  worldly  intellect  of  Iago, 
his  habitual  view  of  "all  qualities"  had  been  clouded  by 
the  breath  of  the  slanderer.  His  confidence  in  purity  and 
innocence  had  been  destroyed.  The  sensual  judgment  of 
"human  dealings"  had  taken  the  place  of  the  spiritual. 
The  enthusiastic  love  and  veneration  of  his  wife  had  been 
painted  to  him  as  the  result  of  gross  passion : — 

"Not  to  affect  many  proposed  matches,"  &c. 

His  belief  in  the  general  prevalence  of  virtuous  motives, 
and  actions  had  been  degraded  to  a  reliance  on  the  liber- 
tine's creed  that  all  are  impure: — 

 "there's  millions  now  alive,"  &c. 

When  the  innocent  and  the  high-minded  submit  themselves 
to  the  tutelage  of  the  man  of  the  world,  as  he  is  called, 
the  process  of  mental  change  is  precisely  that  produced  in 
the  mind  of  Othello.  The  poetry  of  life  is  gone.  On 
them,  never  more 

"The  freshness  of  the  heart  can  fall  like  dew." 

They  abandon  themselves  to  the  betrayer,  and  they  pros- 
trate themselves  before  the  energy  of  his  "gain'd  knowl- 
edge." They  feel  that  in  their  own  original  powers  of 
judgment  they  have  no  support  against  the  dogmatism, 
and  it  may  be  the  ridicule,  of  experience.  This  is  the 
course  with  the  young  when  they  fall  into  the  power  of  the 
tempter.  But  was  not  Othello  in  all  essentials  young? 
Was  he  not  of  an  enthusiastic  temperament,  confiding,  lov- 
ing,— most  sensitive  to  opinion, — jealous  of  his  honor, — 

liii 


Comments 


OTHELLO 


truly  wise,  had  he  trusted  to  his  own  pure  impulses? — But 
he  was  most  weak,  in  adopting  an  evil  opinion  against  his 
own  faith,  and  conviction,  and  proof  in  his  reliance  upon 
the  honesty  and  judgment  of  a  man  whom  he  really 
doubted  and  had  never  proved.  Yet  this  is  the  course  by 
which  the  highest  and  noblest  intellects  are  too  often  sub- 
jected to  the  dominion  of  the  subtle  understanding  and 
the  unbridled  will.  It  is  an  unequal  contest  between  the 
principles  that  are  struggling  for  the  master  in  the  indi- 
vidual man,  when  the  attributes  of  the  serpent  and  the  dove 
are  separated,  and  become  conflicting.  The  wisdom  which 
belonged  to  Othello's  enthusiastic  temperament  was  his 
confidence  in  the  truth  and  purity  of  the  being  with  whom 
his  life  was  bound  up,  and  his  general  reliance  upon  the 
better  part  of  human  nature,  in  his  judgment  of  his  friend. 
When  the  confidence  was  destroyed  by  the  craft  of  his 
deadly  enemy,  his  sustaining  power  was  also  destroyed; — 
the  balance  of  his  sensitive  temperament,  was  lost ; — his  en- 
thusiasm became  wild  passion ; — his  new  belief  in  the  do- 
minion of  grossness  over  the  apparently  pure  and  good, 
shaped  itself  into  gross  outrage ;  his  honor  lent  itself  to 
schemes  of  cruelty  and  revenge.  But  even  amidst  the 
whirlwind  of  this  passion,  we  every  now  and  then  hear 
something  which  sounds  as  the  softest  echo  of  love  and 
gentleness.  Perhaps  in  the  whole  compass  of  the  Shak- 
sperean  pathos  there  is  nothing  deeper  than  ''But  yet  the 
pity  of  it,  Iago !  O,  Iago,  the  pity  of  it,  Iago."  It  is 
the  contemplated  murder  of  Desdemona  which  thus  tears 
his  heart.  But  his  "disordered  power,  engendered  within 
itself  to  its  own  destruction,"  hurries  on  the  catastrophe. 
We  would  ask,  with  Coleridge,  "As  the  curtain  drops, 
which  do  we  pity  the  most?" — Knight,  Pictorial  Shak- 
speare. 

Finally,  let  me  repeat  that  Othello  does  not  kill  Des- 
demona in  jealousy,  but  in  a  conviction  forced  upon  him 
by  the  almost  superhuman  art  of  Iago, — such  a  conviction 
as  any  man  would  and  must  have  entertained  who  had 

liv 


THE  MOOR 


Comments 


believed  Iago's  honesty  as  Othello  did.  We,  the  audience, 
know  that  Iago  is  a  villain  from  the  beginning;  but  in 
considering  the  essence  of  the  Shaksperian  Othello,  we 
must  perseveringly  place  ourselves  in  his  situation,  and 
under  his  circumstances.  Then  we  shall  immediately  feel 
the  fundamental  difference  between  the  solemn  agony  of 
the  noble  Moor,  and  the  wretched  fishing  jealousies  of 
Leontes,  and  the  morbid  suspiciousness  of  Leonatus,  who 
is,  in  other  respects,  a  fine  character.  Othello  had  no  life 
but  in  Desdemona: — the  belief  that  she,  his  angel,  had 
fallen  from  the  heaven  of  her  native  innocence,  wrought  a 
civil  war  in  his  heart.  She  is  his  counterpart ;  and,  like 
him,  is  almost  sanctified  in  our  eyes  by  her  absolute  un- 
suspiciousness,  and  holy  entireness  of  love.  As  the  curtain 
drops,  which  do  Ave  pity  the  most? — Coleridge,  Lectures 
on  Shakspere. 

IAGO 

The  Moor  has  in  his  service  as  "ancient"  a  young  Vene- 
tian, Iago,  of  tried  military  capacity,  cheerful  temperament 
and  bluff  honesty  of  bearing.  No  one,  to  outward  seem- 
ing, could  be  less  of  a  villain,  and  yet  this  plausibly  re- 
spectable exterior  covers  a  fiend  in  human  shape.  Iago  is 
the  arch-criminal  of  Shaksperean  drama— "more  fell  than 
anguish,  hunger  and  the  sea."  Richard  III  is  in  many 
features  his  prototype,  but  the  hunchback  king  is  incited 
to  his  unnatural  deeds  by  the  consciousness  of  his  physical 
deformity.  Moreover,  though  he  has  taken  "Machiavel" 
as  his  master,  he  is  after  all  an  "Italianate"  Englishman, 
not  an  Italian,  and  though  he  crushes  conscience,  as  he  be- 
lieves, out  of  existence,  it  asserts  its  power  at  the  last. 
But  in  Iago  conscience  is  completely  wanting.  He  is,  as 
Coleridge  has  said,  "all  will  in  intellect."  He  is  the  incar- 
nation of  absolute  egotism,  an  egotism  that  without  passion 
or  even  apparent  purpose  is  at  chronic  feud  with  the  moral 
order  of  the  world.  His  mind  is  simply  a  non-conductor 
of  spiritual  elements  in  life.  "Virtue"  is  to  him  a  "fig," 
love  "a  lust  of  the  blood,  and  a  permission  of  the  will;" 

lv 


Comments 


OTHELLO 


reputation,  "an  idle  and  most  false  imposition,"  whose  loss 
is  a  trifle  compared  with  a  bodily  wound.  Hamlet  in  the 
agony  of  disillusion  had  compared  the  world  to  an  un- 
weeded  garden,  occupied  solely  by  things  rank  and  gross 
in  nature.  This  is  Iago's  habitual  view,  and  to  him  it 
causes  no  particle  of  pain.  Evil  is  his  native  element,  and 
the  increase  of  evil  an  end  in  itself.  It  is,  therefore,  un- 
profitable to  discuss  in  detail  the  grounds  of  his  hatred  to- 
wards Othello  or  his  other  victims.  His  is  at  bottom,  to 
use  Coleridge's  phrase,  a  "motiveless  malignity,"  and  he 
can  scarcely  be  in  earnest  with  the  pretexts  which  he  urges 
for  his  misdeeds,  and  which  vary  from  day  to  day. 
Othello's  advancement,  over  his  head,  of  Cassio,  a  Floren- 
tine who  knows  nothing  of  war  but  "the  bookish  theoric," 
might  seem  a  genuine  grievance,  yet  it  is  noticeable  that 
after  the  first  few  lines  of  the  play  Iago  scarcely  alludes 
to  this,  and  makes  more  of  what  are  evidently  imaginary 
offenses  by  Othello  and  Cassio  against  his  honor  as  a  hus- 
band. In  one  passage  he  hints  vaguely  that  he  loves  Des- 
demona,  and  it  is  significant  that  this  is  the  only  trace 
left  of  the  ensign's  motive  for  revenge  in  Cinthio's  novel. 
That  Shakspere  departed  so  widely  from  his  original 
proves  that  he  meant  Iago  to  be  actuated  by  nothing  but 
sheer  diablerie. — Boas,  Shakspere  and  his  Predecessors. 

Some  allege  that  Iago  is  too  villainous  to  be  a  natural 
character,  but  those  allegers  are  simpleton  judges  of  hu- 
man nature:  Fletcher  of  Saltoun  has  said  that  there  is 
many  a  brave  soldier  who  never  wore  a  sword ;  in  like  man- 
ner, there  is  many  an  Iago  in  the  world  who  never  com- 
mitted murder.  Iago's  "learned  spirit"  and  exquisite  in- 
tellect, happily  ending  in  his  own  destruction,  were  as 
requisite  for  the  moral  of  the  piece  as  for  the  sustaining 
of  Othello's  high  character;  for  we  should  have  despised 
the  Moor  if  he  had  been  deceived  by  a  less  consummate 
villain  than  "honest  Iago."  The  latter  is  a  true  char- 
acter, and  the  philosophical  truth  of  this  tragedy  makes 
it  terrible  to  peruse,  in  spite  of  its  beautiful  poetry. 

lvi 


THE  MOOR 


Comments 


Why  has  Aristotle  said  that  tragedy  purines  the  passions? 
for  our  last  wish  and  hope  in  reading  Othello  is  that  the 
villain  Iago  may  be  well  tortured. — Campbell,  Remarks 
on  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Shakespeare. 

But  Iago  !  Aye !  there's  the  rub.  Well  may  poor  Othello 
look  down  to  his  feet,  and  not  seeing  them  different  from 
those  of  others,  feel  convinced  that  it  is  a  fable  which 
attributes  a  cloven  hoof  to  the  devil.  Nor  is  it  wonderful 
that  the  parting  instruction  of  Lodovico  to  Cassio  [sic] 
should  be  to  enforce  the  most  cunning  cruelty  of  torture 
on  the  hellish  villain,  or  that  all  the  party  should  vie  with 
each  other  in  heaping  upon  him  words  of  contumely  and 
execration.  His  determination  to  keep  silence  when  ques- 
tioned, was  at  least  judicious;  for  with  his  utmost  ingen- 
uity he  could  hardly  find  anything  to  say  for  himself.  Is 
there  nothing,  then,  to  be  said  for  him  by  anybody  else? 

No  more  than  this.  He  is  the  sole  exemplar  of  studied 
personal  revenge  in  the  plays.  The  philosophical  mind 
of  Hamlet  ponders  too  deeply,  and  sees  both  sides  of 
the  question  too  clearly,  to  be  able  to  carry  any  plan  of 
vengeance  into  execution.  Romeo's  revenge  on  Tybalt  for 
the  death  of  Mercutio  is  a  sudden  gust  of  ungovernable 
rage.  The  vengeance  in  the  Historical  Plays  are  those 
of  war  or  statecraft.  In  Shylock,  the  passion  is  hardly 
personal  against  his  intended  victim.  A  swaggering 
Christian  is  at  the  mercy  of  a  despised  and  insulted  Jew. 
The  hatred  is  national  and  sectarian.  Had  Bassanio  or 
Gratiano,  or  any  other  of  their  creed,  been  in  his  power, 
he  would  have  been  equally  relentless.  He  is  only  re- 
torting the  wrongs  and  insults  of  his  tribe  in  demanding 
full  satisfaction,  and  imitating  the  hated  Christians  in 
their  own  practices.  It  is,  on  the  whole,  a  passion  re- 
markably seldom  exhibited  in  Shakespeare  in  any  form. 
Iago,  as  I  have  said,  is  its  only  example  as  directed  N 
against  an  individual.  Iago  had  been  affronted  in  the 
tenderest  point.  He  felt  that  he  had  strong  claims  on 
the  office  of  lieutenant  to  Othello.    The  greatest  exertion 

Ivii 


Comments 


OTHELLO 


was  made  to  procure  it  for  him,  and  yet  he  was  refused. 
What  is  still  worse,  the  grounds  of  the  refusal  are  mili- 
tary;  Othello  assigns  to  the  civilians  reasons  for  passing 
over  lago,  drawn  from  his  own  trade,  of  which  they,  of 
course,  could  not  pretend  to  be  adequate  judges.  And 
worst  of  all,  when  this  practised  military  man  is  for  mili- 
tary reasons  set  aside,  who  is  appointed?  Some  man  of 
greater  renown  and  skill  in  arms?  That  might  be  borne; 
but  it  is  no  such  thing. — :Maginn,  Shakespeare  Papers. 

EMILIA 

A  few  words  on  the  character  of  Emilia:  when  we 
change  meter  to  rhythm,  we  vary  the  stress  on  our  syl- 
lables ;  but  a  stronger  accent  in  one  part  of  our  line  im- 
plies a  weaker  accent  in  another  part ;  it  may  even  happen 
that  to  produce  our  fullest  music  we  allow  the  whole  ac- 
centual stress  of  the  line  to  fall  on  one  syllable;  this, 
as  we  saw  in  our  review  of  "Julius  Caesar,"  is  Shake- 
speare's method  in  dealing  with  his  characters ;  one  is 
heightened  if  another  is  lowered ;  and  it  may  turn  out  that 
the  method  gives  us  a  sense  of  unfairness;  I  have  some 
such  feeling  when  I  approach  the  character  of  Emilia;  I 
refer  especially  to  the  conversation  between  Emilia  and 
her  mistress  (IV,  iii,  60—106).  Emilia  had  summed  up 
her  views  of  the  subject  by  a  line — "The  ills  we  do,  their 

ills  instruct  us  so" ;  which  Desdemona  rightly  condemns  

and  with  the  line  all  the  foregoing  remarks  of  Emilia.  It 
is  well  to  gaze  upon  one  entire  and  perfect  chrysolite,  but 
ill  for  the  foil  thereof,  when  the  foil  is  another  woman — 
the  woman,  moreover,  who  would  right  the  wrong  though 
she  lost  twenty  lives — who  did  lose  her  life  through  her 
devotion,  and  whose  last  words  were  of  faithful  love — ■ 
"O,  lay  me  by  my  mistress'  side. — Luce,  Handbook  to 
Shakespeare 's  Works. 

From  the  moment  when  Emilia  learns  Othello's  deed 
from  his  own  lips,  the  poet  disburdens  us  in  a  wondeiful 

lviii 


THE  MOOR 


Comments 


manner  of  all  the  tormenting  feelings  which  the  course  of 
the  catastrophe  had  awakened  in  us.  Emilia  is  a  woman 
of  coarser  texture,  good-natured  like  her  sex,  but  with  more 
spite  than  others  of  her  sex,  light-minded  in  things  which 
appear  to  her  light,  serious  and  energetic  when  great  de- 
mands meet  her;  in  words  she  is  careless  of  her  reputation 
and  virtue,  which  she  would  not  be  in  action.  At  her  hus- 
band's wish  she  has  heedlessly  taken  away  Desdemona's 
handkerchief,  as  she  fancied  for  some  indifferent  object. 
Thoughtless  and  light,  she  had  cared  neither  for  return 
nor  for  explanation,  even  when  she  learned  that  this  hand- 
kerchief, the  importance  of  which  she  knows,  had  caused 
the  quarrel  between  Othello  and  Desdemona ;  in  womanly 
fashion  she  observes  less  attentively  all  that  is  going  on 
around  her,  and  thus,  in  similar  but  worse  unwariness  than 
Desdemona,  she  becomes  the  real  instrument  of  the  un- 
happy fate  of  her  mistress.  Yet  when  she  knows  that 
Othello  has  killed  his  wife,  she  unburdens  our  repressed 
feelings  by  her  words,  testifying  to  Desdemona's  innocence 
by  loud  accusations  of  the  Moor.  When  she  hears  Iago 
named  as  the  calumniator  of  her  fidelity,  she  testifies  to  the 
purity  of  her  mistress  by  unsparing  invectives  against  the 
wickedness  of  her  husband,  and  seeks  to  enlighten  the 
slowly  apprehending  Moor,  whilst  she  continues  to  draw 
out  the  feelings  of  our  soul  and  to  give  them  full  expression 
from  her  own  full  heart.  At  last,  when  she  entirely  per- 
ceives Iago's  guilt  in  the  matter  of  the  handkerchief,  and 
therefore  her  own  participation  in  it,  her  devoted  fidelity 
to  her  mistress  and  her  increasing  feeling  rise  to  sublim- 
ity; her  testimony  against  her  husband,  in  the  face  of 
threatening  death,  now  becomes  a  counterpart  to  Othello's 
severe  exercise  of  justice,  and  her  death  and  dying  song 
upon  Desdemona's  chastity  is  an  expiatory  repentance  at 
her  grave,  which  is  scarcely  surpassed  by  the  Moor's  grand 
and  calm  retaliation  upon  himself.  The  unravelment  and 
expiation  in  this  last  scene  are  wont  to  reawaken  repose 
and  satisfaction  even  in  the  most  deeply  agitated  reader. — 
Gervtnus,  Shakespeare  Commentaries. 

Ijx 


Comments 


OTHELLO 


RODERIGO 

Roderigo  is  a  florid  specimen  of  one  of  Shakespeare's 
simpleton  lovers.  He  has  placed  his  whole  fortune  at  the 
disposal  of  Iago,  to  use  for  the  purpose  of  winning  favor 
for  him  with  Desdemona,  not  having  the  courage  and  abil- 
ity to  woo  for  himself ;  or  rather,  having  an  instinctive 
knowledge  of  his  own  incompetence,  with  so  profound  and 
devout  a  respect  for  the  talent  of  his  adviser,  as  to  leave 
the  whole  management  of  the  diplomacy  in  his  hands. 
Although  Roderigo  is  a  compound  of  vacillation  and 
weakness,  even  to  imbecility;  although  he  suddenly  forms 
resolutions,  and  as  suddenly  quenches  them  at  the  rallying 
contempt  and  jeering  of  Iago;  and  even,  although  being 
entangled  in  the  wily  villain's  net,  he  is  gradually  led  on  to 
act  unconsonantly  with  his  real  nature ;  yet  withal, 
Roderigo  has  so  much  of  redemption  in  him,  that  we  com- 
miserate his  weakness,  and  wish  him  a  better  fate;  for  he 
is  not  wholly  destitute  of  natural  kindness:  he  really  is  ;n 
love  with  Desdemona,  and  was  so  before  her  marriage. 
Iago  has  had  his  purse,  "as  though  the  strings  were  his 
own,"  to  woo  her  for  him ;  and  yet  we  find,  with  all  Ro- 
derigo's  subserviency  to  the  superior  intellect,  that  the 
very  first  words  of  the  play  announce  his  misgiving  that 
his  insidious  friend  has  played  him  false,  since  he  knew 
of  the  projected  elopement  of  Desdemona  with  Othello,  and 
did  not  apprise  him  of  it.  With  this  first  falsehood  pal- 
pable to  him,  he  again  yields  to  the  counsel  of  Iago,  who 
schools  him  into  impatience  with  the  promise  that  he  shall 
yet  obtain  his  prize. — Clarke,  Shakespeare-Characters. 

THE  SOURCE  OF  THE  PATHOS 

The  source  of  the  pathos  throughout — of  that  pathos 
which  at  once  softens  and  deepens  the  tragic  effect — lies 
in  the  character  of  Desdemona.  No  woman  differently 
constituted  could  have  excited  the  same  intense  and  pain- 
ful compassion,  without  losing  something  of  that  exalted 

lx 


THE  MOOR 


Comments 


charm,  which  invests  her  from  beginning  to  end,  which  we 
are  apt  to  impute  to  the  interest  of  the  situation,  and  to 
the  poetical  coloring,  but  which  lies,  in  fact,  in  the  very 
essence  of  the  character.  Desdemona,  with  all  her  timid 
flexibility  and  soft  acquiescence,  is  not  weak ;  for  the  nega- 
tive alone  is  weak;  and  the  mere  presence  of  goodness  and 
affection  implies  in  itself  a  species  of  power;  power  with- 
out consciousness,  power  without  effort,  power  with  repose 
—that  soul  of  grace ! — Jameson,  Shakespeare's  Heroines, 

INTERMARRIAGE  OF  THE  RACES 

Great  efforts  are  often  made  to  show  that  Othello  as  con- 
ceived by  Shakespeare  was  not  a  Negro ;  and  true  it  is 
that  such  an  addition  as  "thick  lips,"  given  contemptu- 
ously, does  not  prove  it.  Othello,  however,  himself,  says 
that  he  is  black ;  and  I  have  been  convinced  that  Shake- 
speare had  in  his  mind  the  proper  negro  complexion  and 
physiognomy  too,  and  that  he  even  assigned  some  mental 
characteristics  of  the  negro  type.  To  these  I  think  be- 
long an  over-affection  for  high  sounding  words,  for  the 
sake  of  the  sound,  an  affectation  of  stateliness  that  verges 
upon  stiffness,  and  value  for  conspicuous  position  with 
somewhat  excessive  feeling  for  parade — for  the  pride  and 
pomp  of  circumstance,  the  report  of  the  artillery  and  the 
waving  of  the  ensign.  There  are  other  coincidences  be- 
sides these,  and  I  cannot  divest  myself  of  the  sense  that 
Othello  embodies  the  ennobled  characteristics  of  the  col- 
ored division  of  the  human  family;  and  in  his  position  rela- 
tively to  the  proudest  aristocracy  of  Europe,  his  story 
exemplifies  the  difficulty  the  world  has  yet  to  solve  between 
the  white  and  the  black.  The  feuds  and  antipathies  of 
race  can  be  fully  conciliated  at  no  other  altar  than  the 
nuptial  bed;  and  the  marriage  of  Desdemona,  and  its  con- 
sequences, typify  the  obstacles  to  this  conclusion.  Some 
critics  moralize  the  fate  of  Desdemona  as  punishment  for 
undutiful  and  ill-assorted  marriage,  yet  the  punishment 
falls  quite  as  severely  on  the  severity  of  Brabantio — on  his 

lxi 


Comments 


OTHELLO 


cruelty,  we  may  say,  for  he  is  the  first — and  out  of  un- 
natural pique,  to  belie  his  own  daughter's  chastity — 

"Look  to  her,  Moor — have  a  quick  eye  to  see"; 

and  if  we  must  needs  make  out  a  scrupulous  law  of  retribu- 
tion, we  shall  come  at  last  to  an  incongruity,  and  that  can 
in  no  sense  be  pious.  The  revolt  of  Desdemona  was  a  re- 
volt against  custom  and  tradition,  but  it  was  in  favor  of 
the  affections  of  the  heart ;  and  if  the  result  was  pitiable, 
it  may  have  been  not  because  custom  and  tradition  were 
right,  but  because  they  were  strong,  and  because  there 
was  the  greater  reason  for  abating  their  strength  by  prov- 
ing it  assailable;  the  justest  war  does  not  demand  the  few- 
est victims ;  and  the  heroes  who  are  left  on  the  field  were 
no  whit  less  right,  but  only  less  fortunate,  than  their 
comrades  who  survive  to  carry  home  the  laurels.  For  the 
matter  in  hand,  however,  it  is  most  certain  that  the  most 
important  advance  that  has  yet  been,  made  towards  estab- 
lishing even  common  cordiality  between  the  races  has  been 
due  as  in  the  case  of  Desdemona  and  the  redeemed  slave, 
Othello,  if  not  to  the  love  at  least  to  the  compassionate 
sympathy  of  woman. — Lloyd,  Critical  Essays. 

THE  FAULT  OF  THE  PLAY 

The  fault  of  the  play  lies  in  the  fact  that  Othello  has  no 
moral  right  to  conviction.  Yet  he  has  more  right  than 
Claudio  (in  Much  Ado),  far  more  than  Posthumus,  and 
a  fortiori  more  than  the  hardly  sane  Leontes.  A  little 
closer  questioning  of  Emilia,  however,  would  have  brought 
oui  the  truth ;  and  this  fact  concerns  Iago's  conduct  as 
well  as  Othello's. — Seccombe  and  Aeeen,  The  Age  of 
Shakespeare. 

BEAUTIES  OF  THE  PLAY 

The  beauties  of  this  play  impress  themselves  so  strongly 
upon  the  attention  of  the  reader,  that  they  can  draw  no 

lxii 


THE  MOOR 


Comments 


aid  from  critical  illustration.  The  fiery  openness  of 
Othello,  magnanimous,  artless,  and  credulous,  boundless  in 
his  confidence,  ardent  in  his  affection,  inflexible  in  his  reso- 
lution, and  obdurate  in  his  revenge;  the  cool  malignity  of 
Iago,  silent  in  his  resentment,  subtle  in  his  design,  and 
studious  at  once  of  his  interest  and  his  vengeance ;  the  soft 
simplicity  of  Desdemona,  confident  of  merit,  and  conscious 
of  innocence,  her  artless  perseverance  in  her  suit,  and  her 
slowness  to  suspect  that  she  can  be  suspected,  are  such 
proofs  of  Shakespeare's  skill  in  human  nature  as,  I  sup- 
pose, it  is  in  vain  to  seek  in  any  modern  writer.  The 
gradual  progress  which  Iago  makes  in  the  Moor's  convic- 
tion, and  the  circumstances  which  he  employs  to  enflame 
him,  are  so  artfully  natural,  that,  though  it  will  perhaps 
not  be  said  of  him  [Othello]  as  he  says  of  himself,  that  he 
is  "a  man  not  easily  jealous,"  yet  we  cannot  but  pity  him, 
when  at  last  we  find  him  "perplexed  in  the  extreme." — 
Johnson. 

THE  FASCINATION  OF  THE  PLAY 

The  noblest  earthly  object  of  the  contemplation  of  man 
is  man  himself.  The  universe,  and  all  its  fair  and  glorious 
forms,  are  indeed  included  in  the  wide  empire  of  imagina- 
tion ;  but  she  has  placed  her  home  and  her  sanctuary 
amidst  the  inexhaustible  A^arieties  and  the  impenetrable  mys- 
teries of  the  mind.  Othello  is,  perhaps,  the  greatest  work 
in  the  world.  From  what  does  it  derive  its  power?  From 
the  clouds?  From  the  ocean?  From  the  mountains?  Or 
from  love  strong  as  death,  and  jealousy  cruel  as  the  grave? 
— Macaulay,  Essay  on  Dante. 

PUNISHMENT 

In  every  character  of  every  play  of  Shakespeare's  the 
punishment  is  in  proportion  to  the  wrong-doing.  How 
mild  is  the  punishment  of  Desdemona,  of  Cordelia  for  a 
slight  wrong;  how  fearful  that  of  Macbeth, — every  mo- 

Ixiii 


Comments  OTHELLO  THE  MOOR 

merit  from  the  commission  of  his  crime  to  his  death,  he 
suffers  more  than  all  the  suffering  of  these  two  women. 
His  deliberate  crime  belongs  to  the  cold  passions ;  as  the 
deed  is  done  with  forethought  and  in  cold  blood,  so  it  is 
avenged  by  the  long-continued  tortures  of  conscience. — 
Ludwig,  Shakespeare-Studien. 


ixiv 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO. 
THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 


Duke  of  Venice 

Braijantio,  a  senator 

Other  Senators  ' 

Gratiano,  brother  to  Brabantio 

Lodovico,  kinsman  to  Brabantio 

Othello,  a  noble  Moor  in  the  service  of  the  Venetian  state 

Cassio,  his  lieutenant 

Iago,  his  ancient 

Roderigo,  a  Venetian  gentleman 

Montano,  Othello's  predecessor  in  the  government  of  Cyprus 
Clown,  servant  to  Othello 

Desdemona,  daughter  to  Brabantio  and  wife  to  Othello 
Emilia,  wife  to  Iago 
Bianca,  mistress  to  Cassio 

Sailor,  Messenger,  Herald,  Officers,  Gentlemen,  Musicians,  and 
Attendants 

(Scene:  Venice:  a  seaport  in  Cyprus 


2 


SYNOPSIS 


By  J.  Ellis  Burdick 

ACT  I 

Othello,  a  Moorish  general  of  noble  birth,  woos  and  wins 
Desdemona,  daughter  to  Brabantio,  a  Venetian  senator. 
Her  father,  learning  of  their  secret  marriage,  is  very  an- 
gry and  accuses  him  before  the  Duke  of  stealing  his  daugh- 
ter by  means  of  "spells  and  medicines  bought  of  mounte- 
^barika2L  Desdemona  herself  declares  in  the  council  cham- 
ber her  love  for  the  Moor  and  receives  her  father's  for- 
giveness. The  Duke  and  the  senators  then  take  up  state 
matters.  These  are  very  pressing,  for  word  has  come  that 
the  Turks  are  making  "a  most  mighty  preparation"  to  take 
the  Island  of  Cyprus  from  the  Venetians.  Othello,  as  the 
most  able  general  in  Venice,  is  sent  to  oppose  them.  His 
wife  accompanies  him.  By  promoting  Cassio  to  be  his 
lieutenant  Othello  incurs  the  secret  enmity  of  Iago,  his 
ancient  or  ensign.  The  latter  also  believes  his  general  has 
had  improper  relations  with  his  wife  Emilia. 

ACT  II 

A  storm  wrecks  the  Turkish  fleet  before  it  reaches  Cy- 
prus. Othello  issues  a  proclamation  for  general  rejoicing 
because  of  their  deliverance  from  the  Turks  and  in  honor 
of  his  marriage.  Cassio  is  placed  in  charge,  with  instruc- 
tions to  keep  the  fun  within  bounds.  Iago  plies  him  with 
wine  until  he  is  drunk  and  involves  him  in  a  street  fight. 
Othello  hears  the  noise,  and,  coming  to  the  scene,  reduces 
Cassio  to  the  ranks.  The  latter  is  sobered  by  this  disgrace 
and  is  anxious  to  be  restored  to  his  rank  again.    He  is 

3  \ 


Synopsis 


OTHELLO 


advised  by  Iago  to  sue  for  a  renewal  of  favor  through 
Desdemona,  whose  influence  with  her  husband  must  be 
greater  than  that  of  anyone  else. 

ACT  III 

Iago  aids  Cassio  to  obtain  the  desired  interview  with 
Desdemona  and  then  entices  Othello  to  the  scene.  Then 
he  begins  to  hint  that  Cassio's  suit  with  the  lady  is  not  the 
honorable  one  that  it  really  is.  Othello's  jealousy  is 
aroused  and  Iago  improves  every  opportunity  to  add  to  it. 
By  means  of  his  wife  he  obtains  a  handkerchief  which 
Othello  had  given  Desdemona  in  the  early  days  of  their 
courtship  and  causes  it  to  be  found  in  Cassio's  possession. 

ACT  IV 

Othello  determines  that  his  wife  and  Cassio  must  die. 
To  Iago  is  given  the  task  of  killing  Cassio  and  he,  glad  of 
the  opportunity  to  thus  rid  himself  forever  of  his  rival, 
sets  on  one  of  his  creatures  to  kill  the  former  lieutenant. 

act  v 

Cassio  wounds  his  assassin,  but  is  wounded  himself  both 
by  him  and  by  Iago.  The  latter,  fearful  that  his  hireling 
will  inform  on  him,  stabs  him  to  death.  The  same  night 
Othello  goes  to  his  wife's  bed-chamber  and  smothers  her 
to  death.  Iago's  wife  Emilia  convinces  Othello  that  he 
has  murdered  an  innocent  and  faithful  wife,  and  as  a  re- 
ward for  her  telling  of  the  truth,  she  is  killed  by  her 
husband.  Iago  is  wounded  by  Othello,  who  then  kills  him- 
self. Cassio  succeeds  to  the  governorship  of  Cyprus,  and 
Iago  is  kept  a  prisoner  that  he  may  be  tortured. 


4 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  OTHELLO, 
THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE 


ACT  FIRST 

Scene  I 

Venice.    A  street. 

Enter  Roderigo  and  I  ago. 

Rod.  Tush,  never  tell  me ;  I  take  it  much  unkindly 
That  thou,  Iago,  who  hast  had  my  purse 
As  if  the  strings  were  thine,  shouldst  know  of 
this. 

Iago.  'Sblood,  but  you  will  not  hear  me: 
If  ever  I  did  dream  of  such  a  matter, 
Abhor  me. 

Rod.  Thou  told'st  me  thou  didst  hold  him  in  thy 
hate. 

Iago.  Despise  me,  if  I  do  not.    Three  great  ones 
of  the  city, 

3.  "know  of  this";  that  is,  the  intended  elopement.  Roderigo  has 
been  suing  for  Desdemona's  hand,  employing  Iago  to  aid  him  in 
his  suit,  and  paying  his  service  in  advance.  Of  course  the  play 
opens  pat  upon  her  elopement  with  the  Moor,  and  Roderigo  pre- 
sumes Iago  to  have  been  in  the  secret  of  their  intention. — The  words, 
Tush  in  this  speech,  and  'Sblood  in  the  next,  are  not  in  the  folio. — 
H.  N.  H. 

8.  "Despise  me  if  I  do  not";  admirable  is  the  preparation,  so 

5 


Act  I.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


In  personal  suit  to  make  me  his  lieutenant,  ,  9 
OfF-capp'd  to  him:  and,  by  the  faith  of  man, 
I  know  my  price,  I  am  worth  no  worse  a  place : 
But  he,  as  loving  his  own  pride  and  purposes, 
Evades  them,  with  a  bombast  circumstance 
Horribly  stufFd  with  epithets  of  war; 
And,  in  conclusion, 

Nonsuits  my  mediators;  for,  'Certes,'  says  he, 

'I  have  already  chose  my  officer.' 

And  what  was  he? 

Forsooth,  a  great  arithmetician, 

One  Michael  Cassio,  a  Florentine,  20 

A  fellow  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair  wife; 

truly  and  peculiarly  Shakespearean,  in  the  introduction  of  Roderigo, 
as  the  dupe  on  whom  Iago  shall  first  exercise  his  art,  and  in  so 
doing  display  his  own  character.  Roderigo,  without  any  fixed  prin- 
ciple, but  not  without  the  moral  notions  and  sympathies  with  honor 
which  his  rank  and  connections  had  hung  upon  him,  is  already 
well  fitted  and  predisposed  for  the  purpose;  for  very  want  of  char- 
acter, and  strength  of  passion,  like  wind  loudest  in  an  empty  house, 
constitute  his  character.  The  first  three  lines  happily  state  the 
nature  and  foundation  of  the  friendship  between  him  and  Iago, — 
the  purse, — as  also  the  contrast  of  Roderigo's  intemperance  of  mind 
with  Iago's  coolness, — the  coolness  of  a  preconceiving  experimenter. 
The  mere  language  of  protestation, — "If  ever  I  did  dream  of  such 
a  matter,  abhor  me," — which,  falling  in  with  the  associative  link, 
determines  Roderigo's  continuation  of  complaint, — "Thou  told'st  me 
thou  didst  hold  him  in  thy  hate," — elicits  at  length  a  true  feeling 
of  Iago's  mind,  the  dread  of  contempt  habitual  to  those  who  en- 
courage in  themselves,  and  have  their  keenest  pleasure  in,  the  ex- 
pression of  contempt  for  others.  Observe  Iago's  high  self-opinion, 
and  the  moral,  that  a  wicked  man  will  employ  real  feelings,  as 
well  as  assume  those  most  alien  from  his  own,  as  instruments  of 
his  purposes  (Coleridge). — H.  N.  H. 
15.  Omitted  in  Ff.  and  Qq.  2,  3. — I.  G. 

21.  "A  fellow  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair  wife";  if  this  alludes  to 
Bianca,  the  phrase  may  possibly  mean  "very  near  being  married  to 
a  most  fair  wife."  Some  explain,  "A  fellow  whose  ignorance  of 
war  would  be  condemned  in  a  fair  woman."  The  emendations  pro- 
posed are  unsatisfactory,  and  probably  unnecessary. — I.  G. 

6 


THE  MOOR 


Act  I.  Sc.  i 


That  never  set  a  squadron  in  the  field, 
Nor  the  division  of  a  battle  knows 
More  than  a  spinster ;  unless  the  bookish  theoric, 
Wherein  the  toged  consuls  can  propose 
As  masterly  as  he:  mere  prattle  without  prac- 
tice 

Is  all  his  soldiership.    But  he,  sir,  had  the  elec- 
tion: 

And  I,  of  whom  his  eyes  had  seen  the  proof 
At  Rhodes,  at  Cyprus,  and  on  other  grounds 
Christian  and  heathen,  must  be  be-lee'd  and 

calm'd  30 
By  debitor  and  creditor :  this  counter-caster, 
He,  in  good  time,  must  his  lieutenant  be, 
And  I — God  bless  the  mark! — his  Moorship's 

ancient. 

Rod.  By  heaven,  I  rather  would  have  been  his 
hangman. 

lago.  Why,  there 's  no  remedy ;  'tis  the  curse  of 
service, 

Preferment  goes  by  letter  and  affection, 
And  not  by  old  gradation,  where  each  second 

The  passage  has  caused  a  great  deal  of  controversy.  Tyrwhitt 
would  read  "fair  life,"  and  Coleridge  thinks  this  reading  "the  true 
one,  as  fitting  to  Iago's  contempt  for  whatever  did  not  display 
power,  and  that,  intellectual  power."  The  change,  however,  seems 
inadmissible.  Perhaps  it  is  meant  as  characteristic  of  lago  to  re- 
gard a  wife  and  a  mistress  as  all  one. — Cassio  is  sneeringly  called  "a 
great  arithmetician"  and  a  "countercaster,"  in  allusion  to  the  pur- 
suits for  which  the  Florentines  were  distinguished.  The  point  is 
thus  stated  by  Charles  Armitage  Browne:  "A  soldier  from  Flor- 
ence, famous  for  its  bankers  throughout  Europe,  and  for  its  inven- 
tion of  bills  of  exchange,  book-keeping,  and  every  thing  connected 
with  a  counting-house,  might  well  be  ridiculed  for  his  promotion,  by 
an  lago,  in  this  manner." — H.  N.  H. 


Act  L  Sc.  i.  OTHELLO 

-■* 

Stoocflieir  to  the  first.    Xow,  sir,  be  judge  your- 
self 

Whether  I  in  any  just  term  am  affined 
To  love  the  Moor. 

Rod.  I  would  not  follow  him  then.  -±0 

Iago.  O.  sir.  content  you; 

I  follow  him  to  serve  my  turn  upon  him : 
We  cannot  all  be  masters,  nor  all  masters 
Cannot  be  truly  followed.    You  shall  mark 
Many  a  duteous  and  knee-crooking  knave, 
That  doting  on  his  own  obsequious  bondage 
Wears  out  his  time,  much  like  his  master's  ass, 
For  nought  but  provender,  and  when  he 's  old, 
ca  shier' d : 

1   Whip  me  such  honest  knaves.    Others  there 

are 

Who,  trimm'd  in  forms  and  visages  of  duty.  50 
Keep  yet  their  hearts  attending  on  themselves. 
And  throwing  but  shows  of  service  on  their 
lords 

Do  well  thrive  by  them,  and  when  they  have 

lined  their  coats 
Do  themselves  homage:  these  fellows  have  some 
soul, 

And  such  a  one  do  I  profess  myself. 
For,  sir, 

It  is  as  sure  as  you  are  Roderigo, 
Were  I  the  Moor,  I  would  not  be  Iago: 
In  following  him,  I  follow  but  myself; 
Heaven  is  my  judge,  not  I  for  love  and  duty, 
But  seeming  so,  for  my  peculiar  end:  60 

50.  "Visages" ;  outward  semblances. — C.  H.  H. 
8 


THE  MOOR 


Act  I.  Sc.  i 


For  when  my  outward  action  doth  demonstrate 
The  native  act  and  figure  of  my  heart 
In  compliment  extern,  'tis  not  long  after 
But  I  will  wear  my  heart  upon  my  sleeve 
For  daws  to  peck  at :  I  am  not  what  I  am. 

Bod.  What  a  full  fortune  does  the  thick  lips  owe, 
If  he  can  carry 't  thus! 

Iago.  Call  up  her  father, 

Rouse  him:  make  after  him,  poison  his  delight, 
Proclaim  him  in  the  streets;  incense  her  kins- 
men, 

And,  though  he  in  a  fertile  climate  dwell,  70 
Plague  him  with  flies:  though  that  his  joy  be 

Yet  throw  such  changes  of  vexation  on 't 

As  it  may  lose  some  color. 
Bod.  Here  is  her  father's  house;  I  '11  call  aloud. 
Iago.  Do ;  with  like  timorous  accent  and  dire  yell 

As  when,  by  night  and  negligence,  the  fire 

Is  spied  in  populous  cities. 
Rod.  What,  ho,  Brabantio!     Signior  Brabantio, 
ho! 

Iago.  Awake!    what,    ho,    Brabantio!  thieves! 

thieves!  thieves! 
Look  to  your  house,  your  daughter  and  your 

bags!  80 
Thieves!  thieves! 

Brabantio  appears  above,  at  a  window. 

72.  "changes";  Ff.  read  "chances" — I.  G. 

76.  "by  night  and  negligence";  that  is,  in  the  time  of  night  and 
negligence;  a  very  common  form  of  expression.— H.  N.  PI. 

9 


Act  I.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


Bra.  What  is  the  reason  of  this  terrible  summons? 

What  is  the  matter  there  ? 
Rod.  Signior,  is  all  your  family  within? 
lago.  Are  your  doors  lock'd? 

Bra.  Why,  wherefore  ask  you  this? 

lago.  'Zounds,  sir,  you  're  robb'd ;  for  shame,  put 

on  your  gown; 
Your  heart  is  burst,  you  have  lost  half  your 

soul; 

Even  now,  now,  very  now,  an  old  black  ram 
Is  tupping  your  white  ewe.    Arise,  arise ; 
Awake  the  snorting  citizens  with  the  bell,  90 
Or  else  the  devil  will  make  a  grandsire  of  you : 
Arise,  I  say. 

Bra.  What,  have  you  lost  your  wits? 

Rod.  Most  reverend  signior,  do  you  know  my 
voice  ? 

Bra.  Not  I :  what  are  you? 

Rod.  My  name  is  Roderigo. 

Bra.  The  worser  welcome: 

I  have  charged  thee  not  to  haunt  about  my 
doors ; 

In  honest  plainness  thou  hast  heard  me  say 
My  daughter  is  not  for  thee;  and  now,  in  mad- 
ness, 

Being    full    of    supper    and  distempering 
draughts, 

Upon  malicious  bravery,  dost  thou  come  10° 
To  start  my  quiet. 

87.  "Burst"  in  the  next  line,  is  used  in  the  sense  of  broken.  The 
usage  was  common. — H.  N.  H. 
100.  "Upon";  out  of.— C.  H.  H. 


10 


THE  MOOR 


Act  I.  Sc.  i 


Rod*  Sir,  sir,  sir, — 

Bra.  But  thou  must  needs  be  sure 

My  spirit  and  my  place  have  in  them  power 
To  make  this  bitter  to  thee. 

Rod.  Patience,  good  sir. 

Bra.  What  tell'st  thou  me  of  robbing?  this  is 
Venice ; 
My  house  is  not  a  grange. 

Rod.  Most  grave  Brabantio, 

In  simple  and  pure  soul  I  come  to  you. 

lago.  'Zounds,  sir,  you  are  one  of  those  that 
will  not  serve  God,  if  the  devil  bid  you.  Be- 
cause we  come  to  do  you  service  and  you  HO 
think  we  are  ruffians,  you  '11  have  your 
daughter  covered  with  a  Barbary  horse; 
you  '11  have  your  nephews  neigh  to  you ; 
you  '11  have  coursers  for  cousins,  and  gen- 
nets  for  germans. 

Bra.  What  profane  wretch  art  thou  ? 

lago.  I  am  one,  sir,  that  comes  to  tell  you  your 
daughter  and  the  Moor  are  now  making  the 
beast  with  two  backs. 

Bra.  Thou  art  a  villain. 

lago.  You  are — a  senator.  120 

Bra.  This    thou    shalt    answer;    I    know  thee, 
Roderigo. 

Rod.  Sir,  I  will  answer  any  thing.    But,  I  be- 
seech you, 

If 't  be  your  pleasure  and  most  wise  consent, 

107.  "In  simple  and  pure  soul";  with  honest  intent. — C.  H.  H. 
112.  "Nephews"  here  means  grandchildren. — H.  N.  H. 
114,  A  "gennet"  is  a  Spanish  or  Barbary  horse. — H.  N.  H. 

11 


Act  I.  Sc. 


OTHELLO 


As  partly  I  find  it  is,  that  your  fair  daughter, 
At  this  odd-even  and  dull  watch  o'  the  night, 
Transported  with  no  worse  nor  better  guard 
But  with  a  knave  of  common  hire,  a  gondolier, 
To  the  gross  clasps  of  a  lascivious  Moor, — 
If  this  be  known  to  you,  and  your  allowance, 
We  then  have  done  you  bold  and  saucy  wrongs ; 
But  if  you  know  not  this,  my  manners  tell 

me  131 
We  have  your  wrong  rebuke.    Do  not  believe 
That,  from  the  sense  of  all  civility, 
I  thus  would  play  and  trifle  with  your  reverence : 
Your  daughter,  if  you  have  not  given  her  leave, 
I  say  again,  hath  made  a  gross  revolt, 
Tying  her  duty,  beauty,  wit  and  fortunes, 
In  an  extravagant  and  wheeling  stranger 
Of  here  and  every  where.    Straight  satisfy 

yourself : 

If  she  be  in  her  chamber  or  your  house,  140 
Let  loose  on  me  the  justice  of  the  state 
For  thus  deluding  you. 
Bra.  Strike  on  the  tinder,  ho ! 

Give  me  a  taper !  call  up  all  my  people ! 
This  accident  is  not  unlike  my  dream : 

126.  "a  knave  of  common  hire,  a  gondolier" ;  a  writer  in  the 
Pictorial  Shakespeare  tells  us,  "that  the  gondoliers  are  the  only  con- 
veyers of  persons,  and  of  a  large  proportion  of  property,  in  Venice; 
that  they  are  thus  cognizant  of  all  intrigues,  and  the  fittest  agents 
in  them,  and  are  under  perpetual  and  strong  temptation  to  make 
profit  of  the  secrets  of  society.  Brabantio  might  well  be  in  horror 
at  his  daughter  having,  in  'the  dull  watch  o'  the  night,  no  worse  nor 
better  guard.'"— H.  N.  H. 

132.  "from  the  sense  of  all  civility";  that  is,  departing  from  the 
sense  of  all  civility. — H.  N.  H. 

144.  "rot  unlike  my  dream";  the  careful  old  senator,  being  caught 

12 


THE  MOOR 


Act  I.  Sc.  i. 


Belief  of  it  oppresses  me  already. 
Light,  I  say!  light!  [Exit  above. 

Iago.  Farewell;  for  I  must  leave  you: 

It  seems  not  meet,  nor  wholesome  to  my  place,  * 
To  be  produced — as,  if  I  stay,  I  shall —  * 
Against  the  Moor:  for  I  do  know,  the  state,  149 
However  this  may  gall  him  with  some  check, 
Cannot  with  safety  cast  him;  for  he 's  embark'd 
With  such  loud  reason  to  the  Cyprus  wars, 
Which  even  now  stand  in  act,  that,  for  their 
souls, 

Another  of  his  fathom  they  have  none 

To  lead  their  business :  in  which  regard, 

Though  I  do  hate  him  as  I  do  hell  pains, 

Yet  for  necessity  of  present  life, 

I  must  show  out  a  flag  and  sign  of  love, 

Which  is  indeed  but  sign.    That  you  shall 

surely  find  him, 
Lead  to  the  Sagittary  the  raised  search;  160 
And  there  will  I  be  with  him.    So  farewell. 

[Exit 

Enter,  below,  Brabantio,  in  his  night-gown,  and 
Servants  with  torches. 

Bra.  It  is  too  true  an  evil:  gone  she  is; 

And  what 's  to  come  of  my  despised  time 
Is  nought  but  bitterness.    Now,  Roderigo, 
Where  didst  thou  see  her?    O  unhappy  girl! 
With  the  Moor,  say'st  thou?    Who  would  be  a 
father! 

careless^  transfers  his  caution  to  his  dreaming  power  at  least  (Cole- 
ridge).—H.  N.  H. 

13 


Act  I.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


How  didst  thou  know  'twas  she?    O,  she  de- 
ceives me 

Past  thought!    What  said  she  to  you?  Get 

more  tapers. 
Raise  all  my  kindred.    Are  they  married,  think 

you? 

Rod.  Truly,  I  think  they  are.  1™ 
Bra.  O  heaven!    How  got  she  out?    O  treason  of 
the  blood ! 

Fathers,  from  hence  trust  not  your  daughters' 
minds 

By  what  you  see  them  act.  Is  there  not  charms 
By  which  the  property  of  youth  and  maidhood 
May  be  abused?  Have  you  not  read,  Roderigo, 
Of  some  such  thing? 

Rod.  Yes,  sir,  I  have  indeed. 

Bra.  Call  up  my  brother.  O,  would  you  had  had 
her! 

Some  one  way,  some  another.    Do  you  know 

Where  we  may  apprehend  her  and  the  Moor? 
Rod.  I  think  I  can  discover  him,  if  you  please  180 

To  get  good  guard  and  go  along  with  me. 
Bra.  Pray  you,  lead  on.    At  every  house  I  '11  call ; 

I  may  command  at  most.    Get  weapons,  ho ! 

And  raise  some  special  officers  of  night.' 

On,  good  Roderigo;  I  '11  deserve  your  pains. 

[Exeunt, 

174.  "property" ;  (virtue)  proper  to. — C.  H.  H. 
183.  "J  may  command  at  most";  that  is,  "I  may  command  at  most 
Of  the  houses."— H.  N.  H. 


14 


THE  MOOR 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 


Scene  II 

Another  street. 
Enter  Othello,  lago,  and  Attendants  with  torches. 

lago.  Though  in  the  trade  of  war  I  have  slain  men,  / 
Yet  do  I  hold  it  very  stuff  o'  the  conscience 
To  do  no  contrived  murder :  I  lack  iniquity 
Sometimes  to  do  me  service:  nine^or  ten  times 
I  had  thought  to  have  yerk'd  him  here  under  the 
ribs.  Rfe<d<?r^© 

Oth.  'Tis  better  as  it  is. 

Iago.  Nay,  but  he  prated  7 

And  spoke  such  scurvy  and  provoking  terms 
Against  your  honor, 

That,  with  the  little  godliness  I  have^  . 

I  did  full  hard  forbear  him.    But  I  pray  you, 

sir,  ^  10 

Are  you  fast  married?    Be  assured  of  this, 
That  the  magnifico  is  much  beloved, 
And  hath  in  his  effect  a  voice  potential 
As  double  as  the  duke's :  he  will  divorce  you, 
Or  put  upon  you  what  restraint  and  grievance 
The  law,  with  all  his  might  to  enforce  it  on, 
Will  give  him  cable. 
Oth.  Let  him  do  his  spite: 

My  services,  which  I  have  done  the  signiory, 
Shall  out-tongue  his  complaints.    'Tis  yet  to 

know —  19 

8.  "against  your  honor";  of  course  lago  is  speaking  of  Roderigo, 
and  pretending  to  relate  what  he  has  done  and  said  against  Othello. 
— H.  N.  H. 

15 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


Which,  when  I  know  that  boasting  is  an  honor, 
I  shall  promulgate— I  fetch  my  life  and  being 
From  men  of  royal  siege,  and  my  demerits 
May  speak  unbonneted  to  as  proud  a  fortune 
As  this  that  I  have  reach'd :  for  know,  Iago, 
But  that  I  love  the  gentle  Desdemona, 
I  would  not  my  unhoused  free  condition 
Put  into  circumscription  and  confine 
For  the  sea's  worth.    But,  look!  what  lights 
come  yond? 

Iago,  Those  are  the  raised  father  and  his  friends: 
You  were  best  go  in. 

Oth.  Not  I;  I  must  be  found:  30 

My  parts,  my  title  and  my  perfect  soul, 
Shall  manifest  me  rightly.    Is  it  they? 

Iago.  By  Janus,  I  think  no. 

Enter  Cassio,  and  certain  Officers  with  torches. 

Oth.  The  servants  of  the  duke,  and  my  lieutenant. 

The  goodness  of  the  night  upon  you,  friends! 

What  is  the  news  ? 
Cas.  The  duke  does  greet  you,  general 

And  he  requires  your  haste-post-haste  appear- 
ance, 

Even  on  the  instant. 

Oth.  What  is  the  matter,  think  you? 

Cas.  Something  from  Cyprus,  as  I  may  divine: 
It  is  a  business  of  some  heat:  the  galleys  40 
Have  sent  a  dozen  sequent  messengers 

28.  "sea's  worth";  Pliny,  the  naturalist,  has  a  chapter  on  the  riches 
of  the  sea.    The  expression  seems  to  have  been  proverbial. — H.  N.  H. 
31.  "perfect  soul";  flawless  honor— C.  H.  H. 

16 


THE  MOOR 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 


This  yery  night  at  one  another's  heels ; 
And  many  of  the  consuls,  raised  and  met, 
Are  at  the  duke's  already:  you  have  been/hotly 
call'd  for; 

'  When,  being  not  at  your  lodging  to  be  found, 
The  senate  hath  sent  about  three  several  quests 
To  search  you  out. 

Oth.  'Tis  well  I  am  found  by  you. 

I  will  but  spend  a  word  here  in  the  house, 
And  go  with  you.  [Exit. 

Cas.  Ancient,  what  makes  he  here? 

Iago.  Faith,  he  to-night  hath  boarded  a  land  ca- 
rack :  50 
If  it  prove  lawful  prize,  he 's  made  for  ever. 

Cas.  I  do  not  understand. 

Iago.  He's  married. 

Cas.  To  who? 

Re-enter  Othello. 

Iago.  Marry,  to — Come,  captain,  will  you  go? 
Oth.  Have  with  you 

Cas.  Here  comes  another  troop  to  seek  for  you. 
Iago.  It  is  Brabantio:  general,  be  advised; 
He  comes  to  bad  intent. 

Enter  Brabantio,  Roderigo,  and  Officers  with 
torches  and  weapons. 

Oth.  Holla!  stand  there! 

Rod.  Signior,  it  is  the  Moor. 

Bra.  Down  with  him,  thief! 

[They  draw  on  both  sides. 

Iago.  You,  Roderigo!  come,  sir,  I  am  for  you. 
xxv— 2  17 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


Oth.  Keep  up  your  bright  swords,  for  the  dew  will 
rust  them. 

Good  signior,  you  shall  more  command  with 
years  60 
Than  with  your  weapons. 
Bra.  O  thou  foul  thief,  where  hast  thou  stow'd  my 
daughter? 

Damn'd  as  thou  art,  thou  hast  enchanted  her; 
For  I  '11  refer  me  to  all  things  of  sense, 
If  she  in  chains  of  magic  were  not  bound, 
Whether  a  maid  so  tender,  fair  and  happy, 
So  opposite  to  marriage  that  she  shunn'd 
The  wealthy  curled  darlings  of  our  nation, 
Would  ever  have,  to  incur  a  general  mock, 
Run  from  her  guardage  to  the  sooty  bosom  70 
Of  such  a  thing  as  thou,  to  fear,  not  to  delight. 
Judge  me  the  world,  if  'tis  not  gross  in  sense 
That  thou  hast  practised  on  her  with  foul 
charms, 

Abused  her  delicate  youth  with  drugs  or  min- 
erals 

59.  "the  dew  will  rust  them";  if  we  mistake  not,  there  is  a  sort  of 
playful,  good-humored  irony  expressed  in  the  very  rhythm  of  this 
line.  Throughout  this  scene,  Othello  appears  at  all  points  "the  noble 
nature,  whose  solid  virtue  the  shot  of  accident,  nor  dart  of  chance, 
could  neither  graze,  nor  pierce":  his  calmness  and  intrepidity  of  soul, 
his  heroic  modesty,  his  manly  frankness  and  considerative  firmness 
of  disposition  are  all  displayed  at  great  advantage,  marking  his 
character  as  one  made  up  of  the  most  solid  and  gentle  qualities. 
Though  he  has  nowise  wronged  Brabantio,  he  knows  that  he  seems 
to  have  done  so:  his  feelings  therefore  take  the  old  man's  part, 
and  he  respects  his  age  and  sorrow  too  much  to  resent  his  violence; 
hears  his  charges  with  a  kind  of  reverential  defiance,  and  answers 
them  as  knowing  them  false,  yet  sensible  of  their  reasonableness, 
and  honoring  him  the  more  for  making  them. — H.  N.  H. 

72-77;  iii.  16;  36;  63;  118;  123;  194;  omitted  Q.  1.— I.  G. 


18 


THE  MOOR 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 


That  weaken  motion :  I  '11  have 't  disputed  on ; 
'Tis  probable,  and  palpable  to  thinking. 
I  therefore  apprehend  and  do  attach  thee  ^ 
For  an  abuser  of  the  world,  a  practicer 
Of  arts  inhibited  and  out  of  warrant. 
Lay  hold  upon  him:  if  he  do  resist,  80 
Subdue  him  at  his  peril. 
Oth.  Hold  your  hands, 

Both  you  of  my  inclining  and  the  rest : 
Were  it  my  cue  to  fight,  I  should  have  known  it 
Without  a  prompter.    Where  will  you  that  I 
go 

To  answer  this  your  charge  ? 

Bra.  To  prison,  till  fit  time 

Of  law  and  course  of  direct  session 
Call  thee  to  answer. 

Oth.  What  if  I  do  obey? 

How  may  the  duke  be  therewith  satisfied, 
Whose  messengers  are  here  about  my  side, 
Upon  some  present  business  of  the  state  90 
To  bring  me  to  him? 

First  Off.  'Tis  true,  most  worthy  signior ; 

The  duke 's  in  council,  and  your  noble  self, 
I  am  sure,  ^s  sent  for. 

Bra.  How!  the  duke  in  council! 

In  this  time  of  the  night !    Bring  him  away : 
Mine 's  not  an  idle  cause :  the  duke  himself, 
Or  any  of  my  brothers  of  the  state, 
Cannot  but  feel  this  wrong  as  'twere  their  own; 

75.  "weaken  motion";  Rowe's  emendation;  Ff.  and  Qq.  2,  3,  "weak- 
ens motion" ;  Pope  (Ed.  2,  Theobald)  "weaken  notion";  Hammer, 
"waken  motion";  Keightley,  "wakens  motion";  Anon.  conj.  in  Fur- 
ness,  "wake  emotion"  &c. — I.  G. 

19 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


For  if  such  actions  may  have  passage  free, 
Bond-slaves  and  pagans  shall  our  statesmen  be. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  III 

A  council-chamber. 

The  Duke  and  Senators  sitting  at  a  table;  Officers 
attending. 

Duke.  There  is  no  composition  in  these  news 
That  gives  them  credit. 

First  Sen.  Indeed  they  are  disproportion'^ ; 

My  letters  say  a  hundred  and  seven  galleys. 

Duke.  And  mine,  a  hundred  and  forty. 

Sec.  Sen.  And  mine,  two  hundred: 

But  though  they  jump  not  on  a  just  account, — 
As  in  these  cases,  where  the  aim  reports, 
'Tis  oft  with  difference, — yet  do  they  all  confirm 
A  Turkish  fleet,  and  bearing  up  to  Cyprus. 

Duke.  Nay,  it  is  possible  enough  to  judgment: 
I  do  not  so  secure  me  in  the  error,  10 
But  the  main  article  I  do  approve 
In  fearful  sense. 

Sailor.    [Within]  What,  ho!  what,  ho!  what,  ho! 

First  Off.  A  messenger  from  the  galleys. 

99.  "bond-slaves  and  'pagans" ;  this  passage  has  been  misunder- 
stood. Pagan  was  a  word  of  contempt;  and  the  reason  will  appear 
from  its  etymology:  "Paganus,  villanus  vel  incultus.  Et  derivatur 
a  pagus,  quod  est  villa.  Et  quicunque  habitat  in  villa  est  paganus. 
Prseterea  quicunque  est  extra  civitatem  Dei,  i.  e.,  ecclesiam,  dicitur 
paganus.    Anglice,  a  paynim" — Ortus  Vocabulorum,  1528. — H.  N.  H. 

11.  "the  main  article  I  do  approve";  I  admit  the  substantial  truth 
of  the  report.— C.  H.  H. 

20 


THE  MOOR 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 


Duke. 


Enter  Sailor. 

Now,  what 's  the  business  ? 


Sail.  The  Turkish  preparation  makes  for  Rhodes; 

So  was  I  bid  report  here  to  the  state 

By  Signior  Angelo. 
Duke.  How  say  you  by  this  change? 


By  no  assay  of  reason:  'tis  a  pageant 
To  J^eep  us  in  false  gaze.    When  we  consider 
The  importancy  of  Cyprus  to  the  Turk,  20 
And  let  ourselves  again  but  understand 
That  as  it  more  concerns  the  Turk  than  Rhodes, 
So  may  he  with  more  facile  question  bear  it, 
For  that  it  stands  not  in  such  warlike  brace, 
But  altogether  lacks  the  abilities 
That  Rhodes  is  dress'd  in:  if  we  make  thought 
of  this, 

We  must  not  think  the  Turk  is  so  unskillful 
To  leave  that  latest  which  concerns  him  first, 
Neglecting  an  attempt  of  ease  and  gain, 
To  wake  and  wage  a  danger  profitless.  30 

Duke.  Nay,  inlall  confidence,  he 's  not  for  Rhodes. 

First  Off.  Here  is  more  news. 


Mess.  The  Ottomites,  reversed  and  gracious, 

Steering  with  due  course  toward  the  isle  of 
•  Rhodes 

Have  there  in  jointed  them  with  an  after  fleet. 
First  Sen.  Aye,  so  I  thought.    How  many,  as  you 
guess  ? 


First  Sen. 


This  cannot  be, 


Enter  a  Messenger. 


21 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Mess,  Of  thirty  sail:  and  now  they  do  re-stem 
Their  backward  course,  bearing  with  frank  ap- 
pearance 

Their  purposes  toward  Cyprus.    Signior  Mon- 
tano, 

Your  trusty  and  most  valiant  servitor,  40 

With  his  free  duty  recommends  you  thus, 

And  prays  you  to  believe  him. 
Duke.  'Tis  certain  then  for  Cyprus. 

Marcus  Luccicos,  is  not  he  in  town? 
First  Sen.  He 's  now  in  Florence. 
Duke.  Write  from  us  to  him;  post-post-haste  dis- 
patch. 

First  Sen.  Here  comes  Brabantio  and  the  valiant 
Moor. 

Enter  Brabantio,  Othello,  lago,  Roderigo,  and 

Officers. 

Duke.  Valiant  Othello,  we  must  straight  employ 
you 

Against  the  general  enemy  Ottoman. 
[To  Brabantio']  I  did  not  see  you;  welcome, 
gentle  signior;  50 
We  lack'd  your  counsel  and  your  help  to-night. 
Bra.  So  did  I  yours.    Good  your  grace,  pardon 
me; 

Neither  my  place  nor  aught  I  heard  of  business 
Hath  raised  me  from  my  bed,  nor  doth  the  gen- 
eral care 

Take  hold  on  me;  for  my  particular  grief 
Is  of  so  flood-gate  and  o'erbearing  nature 
That  it  engluts  and  swallows  other  sorrows, 

22 


THE  MOOR 


Act.  I.  Sc.  iii. 


And  it  is  still  itself. 

Duke.  Why,  what 's  the  matter? 

Bra.  My  daughter!    O,  my  daughter! 

All.      *  Dead? 

Bra.  Aye,  to  me; 

She  is  abused,  stol'n  from  me  and  corrupted  60 
By  spells  and  medicines  bought  of  mounte- 
banks ; 

For  nature  so  preposterously  to  err, 
Being  not  deficient,  blind,  or  lame  of  sense, 
Sans  witchcraft  could  not. 
Duke.  Whoe'er  he  be  that  in  this  foul  proceeding 
Hath  thus  beguiled  your  daughter  of  herself 
And  you  of  her,  the  bloody  book  of  law 
You  shall  yourself  read  in  the  bitter  letter 
After  your  own  sense,  yea,  though  our  proper 
son 

Stood  in  your  action. 
Bra.  Humbly  I  thank  your  grace.  70 

"Here  is  the  man,  this  Moor;  whom  now,  it 
seems, 

Your  special  mandate  for  the  state-affairs 

Hath  hither  brought. 
All.  We  are  very  sorry  for 't. 

Duke.  [To  Othello]  What  in  your  own  part  can 

you  say  to  this? 
Bra.  Nothing,  but  this  is  so. 
Oth.  Most  potent,  grave,  and  reverend  signiors, 

My  very  noble  and  approved  good  masters, 

67.  "bloody  book  of  laic";  "By  the  Venetian  law  the  giving  of 
love-potions  was  highly  criminal"  (Clarke).— I.  G. 

70.  "Stood  in  your  action";  were  the  object  of  your  accusation.— 
C.  H.  H. 

23 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


That  I  have  ta'en  away  this  old  man's  daughter, 
^  It  is  most  true ;  true,  I  have  married  her : 

The  very  head  and  front  of  my  offending  80 
Hath  this  extent,  no  more.    Rude  am  I  in  my 
speech, 

And  little  blest  with  the  soft  phrase  of  peace; 
For  since  these  arms  of  mine  had  seven  years' 
pith, 

Till  now  some  nine  moons  wasted,  they  have 
used 

Their  dearest  action  in  the  tented  field; 
And  little  of  this  great  world  can  I  speak, 
More  than  pertains  to  feats  of  broil  and  battle; 
And  therefore  little  shall  I  grace  my  cause 
In  speaking  for  myself.    Yet,  by  your  gracious 
patience, 

I  will  a  round  unvarnish'd  tale  deliver  90 
Of  my  whole  course  of  love;  what  drugs,  what 
charms, 

What  conjuration  and  what  mighty  magic — 
For  such  proceeding  I  am  charged  withal — 
I  won  his  daughter. 
Bra.  A  maiden  never  bold; 

Of  spirit  so  still  and  quiet  that  her  motion 
Blush'd  at  herself ;  and  she — in  spite  of  nature, 
Of  years,  of  country,  credit,  every  thing — 
To  fall  in  love  with  what  she  fear'd  to  look  on! 
It  is  a  judgment  maim'd  and  most  imperfect, 
That  will  confess  perfection  so  could  err  100 
Against  all  rules  of  nature ;  and  must  be  driven 

87.  "feats  of  broil";  Capell's  emendation;  Q.  1,  "feate  of  broile"; 
F.  1,  "Feats  of  Broiles,"  &e. — I.  G. 

24 


THE  MOOR 


Act.  I.  Sc.  iii. 


To  find  out  practices  of  cunning  hell, 
Why  this  should  be.    I  therefore  vouch  again, 
That  with  some  mixtures  powerful  o'er  the 
blood, 

Or  with  some  dram  conjured  to  this  effect, 
He  wrought  upon  her. 

Duke.  To  vouch  this,  is  no  proof 

Without  more  certain  and  more  overt  test 
Than  these  thin  habits  and  poor  likelihoods 
Of  modern  seeming  do  prefer  against  him. 

First  Sen.  But,  Othello,  speak:  110 
Did  you  by  indirect  and  forced  courses 
Subdue  and  poison  this  young  maid's  aff  ections  ? 
Or  came  it  by  request,  and  such  fair  question 
As  soul  to  soul  aff  ordeth  ? 

Oth.  I  do  beseech  you, 

Send  for  the  lady  to  the  Sagittary, 
And  let  her  speak  of  me  before  her  father: 
If  you  do  find  me  foul  in  her  report, 
The  trust,  the  office  I  do  hold  of  you, 
Not  only  take  away,  but  let  your  sentence 
Even  fall  upon  my  life. 

Duke.  Fetch  Desdemona  hither,  120 

Oth.  Ancient,  conduct  them;  you  best  know  the 
place.  [Exeunt  I  ago  and  Attendants. 

And  till  she  come,  as  truly  as  to  heaven 
I  do  confess  the  vices  of  my  blood, 
So  justly  to  your  grave  ears  I  '11  present 
How  I  did  thrive  in  this  fair  lady's  love 
And  she  is  mine. 

107.  "Certain";  so  Qq.;  Ff.,  "wider."— I.  G. 
25 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Duke.  Say  it,  Othello. 

Oth.  Her  father  loved  me,  oft  invited  me, 
Still  questioned  me  the  story  of  my  life 
From  year  to  year,  the  battles,  sieges,  for- 
tunes, 130 
That  I  have  pass'd.  %  ^  9  ^ 

"     I  ran  it  through,  even  from  my  boyish  days 
To  the  very  moment  that  he  bade  me  tell  it : 
Wherein  I  spake  of  most  disastrous  chances, 
Of  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field, 
Of  hair-breadth  'scapes  i'  the  imminent  deadly 
breach, 

Of  being  taken  by  the  insolent  foe, 

And  sold  to  slavery,  of  my  redemption  thence, 

And  portance  in  my  travels'  history : 

Wherein  of  antres  vast  and  deserts  idle,  140 

Rough  quarries,  rocks,  and  hills  whose  heads 

touch  heaven, 
It  was  my  hint  to  speak, — such  was  the  process ; 
And  of  the  Cannibals  that  each  other  eat, 
The  Anthropophagi,  and  men  whose  heads 
Do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders.    This  to  hear 

139.  "portance  in  my";  so  Ff.  and  Q.  2;  Q.  3,  "portence  in  my"; 
Q.  1,  "with  it  all  my";  Johnson  conj.  "portance  in't;  my"  &c; 
"travels";  the  reading  of  Modern  Edd.  (Globe  Ed.);  Qq.,  "trauells"; 
Pope,  "travel's";  F.  1,  "Trauellours";  Ff.  2,  3,  "Travellers";  F.  4, 
"Traveller's";  Richardson  conj.  "travellous"  or  "travailous" — I.  G. 

144.  "whose  heads  do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders" ;  nothing  ex- 
cited more  universal  attention  than  the  account  brought  by  Sir  Wal- 
ter Raleigh,  on  his  return  from  his  celebrated  voyage  to  Guiana  in 
1595,  of  the  cannibals,  amazons,  and  especially  of  the  nation,  "whose 
heads  do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders."  A  short  extract  of  the 
more  wonderful  passages  was  also  published  in  Latin  and  in  several 
other  languages  in  1599,  adorned  with  copper-plates,  representing 
these  cannibals,  amazons,  and  headless  people,  &e.  These  extraor- 
dinary reports  were  universally  credited;  and  Othello  therefore  as- 

26 


Othello:  Still  question'd  me  the  story  of  my  life — 
Act  I,  Scene  3. 


THE  MOOR 


Act.  I.  Sc.  iii. 


Would  Desdemona  seriously  incline : 
But  still  the  house-affairs  would  draw  her 
thence ; 

Which  ever  as  she  could  with  haste  dispatch, 
She  'Id  come  again,  and  with  a  greedy  ear 
Devour  up  my  discourse  :  which  I  observing,  150 
Took  once  a  pliant  hour,  and  found  good 
means 

To  draw  from  her  a  prayer  of  earnest  heart 
That  I  would  all  my  pilgrimage  dilate, 
Whereof  by  parcels  she  had  something  heard, 
But  not  intentively:    I  did  consent, 
And  often  did  beguile  her  of  her  tears 
When  I  did  speak  of  some  distressful  stroke 
That  my  youth  suff  er'd.    My  story  being  done, 
She  gave  me  for  my  pains  a  world  of  sighs: 
She  swore,  in  faith,  'twas  strange,  'twas  passing 

strange ;  160 
'Twas  pitiful,  'twas  wondrous  pitiful: 
She  wish'd  she  had  not  heard  it,  yet  she  wish'd 
That  heaven  had  made  her  such  a  man:  she 

thank'd  me, 

sumes  no  other  character  but  what  was  very  common  among  the 
celebrated  commanders  of  the  Poet's  time. — The  folio  omits  Do,  and 
reads,  "These  things  to  hear." — H.  N.  H. 

159.  "sighs";  Ff.,  "kisses";  Southern  MS.,  "thanks." — I.  G. 

160.  "she  swore";  to  aver  upon  faith  or  honor  was  considered 
swearing. — H.  N.  H. 

163.  "such  a  man";  a  question  has  lately  been  raised  whether  the 
meaning  here  is,  that  Desdemona  wished  such  a  man  had  been  made 
for  her,  or  that  she  herself  had  been  made  such  a  man;  and  several 
have  insisted  on  the  latter,  lest  the  lady's  delicacy  should  be  im- 
peached. Her  delicacy,  we  hope,  stands  in  need  of  no  such  critical 
attorneyship.  Othello  was  indeed  just  such  a  man  as  she  wanted; 
and  her  letting  him  understand  this,  was  doubtless  part  of  the  hint 
whereon  he  spoke. — H.  N.  H. 

27 


Act  i.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


And  bade  me,  if  I  had  a  friend  that  loved  her, 
I  should  but  teach  him  how  to  tell  my  story, 
And  that  would  woo  her.    Upon  this  hint  I 
spake : 

j  She  loved  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  pass'd, 
I   And  I  loved  her  that  she  did  pity  them. 
/    This  only  is  the  witchcraft  I  have  used. 
/    Here  comes  the  lady ;  let  her  witness  it.  170 

\    Enter  Desdemona,  lago,  and  Attendants. 

Duke.  I  think  this  tale  would  win  my  daughter  too. 
Good  Brabantio, 

Take  up  this  mangled  matter  at  the  best : 
Men  do  their  broken  weapons  rather  use 
Than  their  bare  hands. 
Bra.  I  pray  you,  hear  her  speak : 

If  she  confess  that  she  was  half  the  wooer, 
Destruction  on  my  head,  if  my  bad  blame 
Light  on  the  man!    Come  hither,  gentle  mis- 
tress : 

Do  you  perceive  in  all  this  noble  company 
Where  most  you  owe  obedience? 
Des.  My  noble  father,  180 

I  do  perceive  here  a  divided  duty : 
To  you  I  am  bound  for  life  and  education; 
My  life  and  education  both  do  learn  me 
How  to  respect  you;  you  are  the  lord  of  duty, 
I  am  hitherto  your  daughter :  but  here 's  my 
husband, 

And  so  much  duty  as  my  mother  show'd 
To  you,  preferring  you  before  her  father, 
So  much  I  challenge  that  I  may  profess 

28 


THE  MOOR 


Act.  I.  Sc.  iii. 


Due  to  the  Moor  my  lord. 
Bra.  God  be  with  you!    I  have  done. 

Please  it  your  grace,  on  to  the  state-aff airs :  190 
I  had  rather  to  adopt  a  child  than  get  it. 
Come  hither,  Moor : 

I  here  do  give  thee  that  with  all  my  heart, 
Which,  but  thou  hast  already,  with  all  my  heart 
I  would  keep  from  thee.    For  your  sake,  jewel, 
I  am  glad  at  soul  I  have  no  other  child ; 
For  thy  escape  would  teach  me  tyranny, 
To  hang  clogs  on  them.    I  have  done,  my  lord. 
Duke.  Let  me  speak  like  yourself,  and  lay  a  sen- 
tence 

Which,  as  a  grise  or  step,  may  help  these  lovers 
Into  your  favor.  201 
When  remedies  are  past,  the  griefs  are  ended 
By  seeing  the  worst,  which  late  on  hopes  de- 
pended. 

To  mourn  a  mischief  that  is  past  and  gone  ty 
Is  the  next  way  to  draw  new  mischief  on. 
What  cannot  be  preserved  when  fortune  takes, 
Patience  her  injury  a  mockery  makes. 
The  robb'd  that  smiles  steals  something  from 
the  thief ; 

He  robs  himself  that  spends  a  bootless  grief. 
Bra.  So  let  the  Turk  of  Cyprus  us  beguile;  210 
We  lose  it  not  so  long  as  we  can  smile. 

199.  "speak  like  yourself";  that  is,  let  me  speak  as  yourself  would 
speak,  were  you  not  too  much  heated  with  passion. — H.  N.  H. 

202.  "When  remedies  are  past";  this  is  expressed  in  a  common  pro- 
verbial form  in  Love  Labour's  Lost:  "Past  cure  is  still  past  care." 
— H.  N.  H. 

.  207.  "Patience  laughs  at  the  loss."— C.  H.  H. 

29 


A.ct  I.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


He  bears  the  sentence  well,  that  nothing  bears 
But  the  free  comfort  which  from  thence  he 
hears ; 

But  he  bears  both  the  sentence  and  the  sorrow, 
That,  to  pay  grief,  must  of  poor  patience  bor- 
row. 

These  sentences,  to  sugar  or  to  gall, 
Being  strong  on  both  sides,  are  equivocal: 
But  words  are  words ;  I  never  yet  did  hear 
That  the  bruised  heart  was  pierced  through  the 
ear. 

I  humbly  beseech  you,  proceed  to  the  aff  airs  of 
state.  220 

Duke.  The  Turk  with  a  most  mighty  prepara- 
tion makes  for  Cyprus.  Othello,  the  forti- 
tude of  the  place  is  best  known  to  you ;  and 
though  we  have  there  a  substitute  of  most 
allowed  sufficiency,  yet  opinion,  a  sovereign 
mistress  of  effects,  throws  a  more  safer  voice 
on  you:  you  must  therefore  be  content  to 
slubber  the  gloss  of  your  new  fortunes  with 
this  more  stubborn  and  boisterous  expedi- 
tion. 230 

Oth.  The  tyrant  custom,  most  grave  senators, 
Hath  made  the  flinty  and  steel  couch  of  war 
My  thrice-driven  bed  of  down:  I  do  agnize 
A  natural  and  prompt  alacrity 
I  find  in  hardness ;  and  do  undertake 
These  present  wars  against  the  Ottomites. 
Most  humbly  therefore  bending  to  your  state, 

216.  "to  sugar,  or  to  gall";  (depending  on  "are  equivocal"). — 
C.  H.  H. 

SO 


THE  MOOR 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 


I  crave  fit  disposition  for  my  wife, 
Due  reference  of  place  and  exhibition, 
With  such  accommodation  and  besort  240 
As  levels  with  her  breeding. 

Duke,  If  you  please, 

Be 't  at  her  father's. 

Bra.  I  '11  not  have  it  so. 

Oth.  Nor  I. 

Des.  Nor  I,  I  would  not  there  reside, 

To  put  my  father  in  impatient  thoughts 
By  being  in  his  eye.    Most  gracious  duke, 
To  my  unfolding  lend  your  prosperous  ear, 
And  let  me  find  a  charter  in  your  voice 
To  assist  my  simpleness. 

Duke.  What  would  you,  Desdemona? 

Des.  That  I  did  love  the  Moor  to  live  with  him,  250 
My  downright  violence  and  storm  of  fortunes 
May  trumpet  to  the  world :  my  heart 's  subdued 
Even  to  the  very  quality  of  my  lord: 
I  saw  Othello's  visage  in  his  mind, 
And  to  his  honors  and  his  valiant  parts 
Did  I  my  soul  and  fortunes  consecrate. 
So  that,  dear  lords,  if  I  be  left  behind, 
A  moth  of  peace,  and  he  go  to  the  war, 
The  rites  for  which  I  love  him  are  bereft  me, 
And  I  a  heavy  interim  shall  support  260 
By  his  dear  absence.    Let  me  go  with  him.  V 

Oth.  Let  her  have  your  voices. 

251.  "and  storm  of  fortunes";  Q.  1,  "and  scorne  of  Fortunes/  &c. 
—I.  G. 

262.  "Let  her  have  your  voices";  Dyce's  correction;  Ff.,  "Let  her 
have  your  voice";  Qq.  read 

"Your  voyces  Lord;  beseech  you  let  her  will 
Haue  a  free  way" — I.  G. 

31 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Vouch  with  me,  heaven,  I  therefore  beg  it  not, 
To  please  the  palate  of  my  appetite ; 
Nor  to  comply  with  heat — the  young  affects 
In  me  defunct — and  proper  satisfaction; 
But  to  be  free  and  bounteous  to  her  mind: 
And  heaven  defend  your  good  souls,  that  you 
think 

I  will  your  serious  and  great  business  scant 
For  she  is  with  me.    No,  when  light-wing'd 

toys  270 
Of  feather 'd  Cupid  seel  with  wanton  dullness 
My  speculative  and  officed  instruments, 
That  my  disports  corrupt  and  taint  my  business, 
Let  housewives  make  a  skillet  of  my  helm, 
And  all  indign  and  base  adversities 
Make  head  against  my  estimation! 
Duke.  Be  it  as  you  shall  privately  determine, 
Either  for  her  stay  or  going:  the  affair  cries 

haste, 

And  speed  must  answer 't ;  you  must  hence  to- 
night. 

Des.  To-night,  my  lord? 
Duke.  This  night. 

Oth.  With  all  my  heart.  280 

Duke.  At  nine  i'  the  morning  here  we  '11  meet 
again. 

Othello,  leave  some  officer  behind, 

264-265.  "the  young  affects  In  me  defunct";  Qq.,  "the  young 
affects  In  my  defunct";  so  F.  1;  Ff.  2,  3,  4  ("effects").  The  read- 
ing of  the  text  is  the  simplest  and  most  plausible  emendation  of  the 
many  proposed,  the  words  meaning  "the  passions  of  youth  which  I 
have  now  outlived":  "proper  satis faction"="my  own  gratification." 
—I.  G. 


32 


THE  MOOR  Act  i.  Sc.  iii. 

And  he  shall  pur  commission  bring  to  you ; 

With  such  things  else  of  quality  and  respect 

As  doth  import  you. 
Oth.  So  please  your  grace,  my  ancient ; 

A  man  he  is  of  honesty  and  trust : 

To  his  conveyance  I  assign  my  wife, 

With  what  else  needful  your  good  grace  shall 
think 

To  be  sent  after  me. 
Duke.  Let  it  be  so. 

Good  night  to  every  one.  [To  Brab.~\  And, 
noble  signior,  290 

If  virtue  no  delighted  beauty  lack, 

Your  son-in-law  is  far  more  fair  than  black. 
First  Sen.  Adieu,  brave  Moor;  use  Desdemona 
well. 

Bra.  Look  to  her^Moor^jf  thou  hasj^eyes  to_see;  q^A-^ 

She  has  deceived  her  father,  and  may  thee.  °b 
[Exeunt  Duke]  Senators,  6~fjicers'}\c. 
Oth.  My  life  upon  her  faith!    Honest  Iago,  *> 

My  Desdemona  must  I  leave  to  thee: 

I  prithee,  let  thy  wife  attend  on  her; 

And  bring  them  after  in  the  best  advantage. 

Come,  Desdemona ;  I  have  but  an  hour  300 

Of  love,  of  worldly  matters  and  direction, 

To  spend  with  thee :  we  must  obey  the  time.  f 
[Exeunt  Othello  and  Desdemona. 

Rod.  Iago! 

296.  "My  life  upon  her  faith";  in  real  life,  how  do  we  look  back 
to  little  speeches  as  prcsentimental  of,  or  contrasted  with,  an  affect- 
ing event!  Even  so,  Shakespeare,  as  secure  of  being  read  over  and 
over,  of  becoming  a  family  friend,  provides  this  passage  for  his 
readers,  and  leaves  it  to  them  (Coleridge). — H.  N.  H. 
XXV-3  33 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


lago.  What  say'st  thou,  noble  heart? 

Rod.  What  will  I  do,  thinkest  thou? 

lago.  Why,  go  to  bed  and  sleep. 

Rod.  I  will  incontinently  drown  myself. 

lago.  If  thou  dost,  I  shall  never  love  thee  after. 
Why,  thou  silly  gentleman! 

Rod.  It  is  silliness  to  live  when  to  live  is  tor-  310 
ment ;  and  then  have  we  a  prescription  to  die 
when  death  is  our  physician. 

lago.  O  villainous!  I  have  looked  upon  the 
world  for  four  times  seven  years;  and  since 
I  could  distinguish  betwixt  a  benefit  and  an 
injury,  I  never  found  man  that  knew  how  to 
love  himself.  Ere  I  would  say  I  would 
drown  myself  for  the  love  of  a  guinea-hen, 
I  would  change  my  humanity  with  a  baboon. 

Hod.  What  should  I  do?    I  confess  it  is  my  320 

314.  ''four  times  seven  years";  this  clearly  ascertains  the  age  of 
lago  to  be  twenty-eight  years;  though  the  general  impression  of  him 
is  that  of  a  much  older  man.  The  Poet,  we  doubt  not,  had  a  wise 
purpose  in  making  him  so  young,  as  it  infers  his  virulence  of  mind 
to  be  something  innate  and  spontaneous,  and  not  superinduced  by 
h«rsh  experience  of  the  world.  Mr.  Verplanck  remarks  upon  it 
thiis:  "An  old  soldier  of  acknowledged  merit,  who,  after  years  of 
service,  sees  a  young  man  like  Cassio  placed  over  his  head,  has  not 
a  kittle  to  plead  in  justification  of  deep  resentment,  and  in  excuse, 
though  not  in  defence,  of  his  revenge:  such  a  man  may  well  brood 
over  imaginary  wrongs.  The  caustic  sarcasm  and  contemptuous 
estimate  of  mankind  are  at  least  pardonable  in  a  soured  and  dis- 
appointed veteran.  But  in  a  young  man  the  revenge  is  more  purely 
gratuitous,  the  hypocrisy,  the  knowledge,  the  dexterous  management 
of  the  worst  and  weakest  parts  of  human  nature,  the  recklessness 
of  moral  feeling, — even  the  stern,  bitter  wit,  intellectual  and  con- 
temptuous, without  any  of  the  gayety  of  youth, — are  all  precocious 
and  peculiar;  separating  lago  from  the  ordinary  sympathies  of  our 
nature,  and  investing  him  with  higher  talent  and  blacker  guilt." — 
H.  N.  H. 

34 


THE  MOOR 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 


shame  to  be  so  fond;  but  it  is  not  in  my 
virtue  to  amend  it.  / 
lago.  Virtue !  a  fig !  'tis  in  ourselves  that  we  are 
thus  or  thus.  Our  bodies  are  gardens;  to 
the  which  our  wills  are  gardenersj  so  that  if 
we  will  plant  nettles  or  sow  lettuce,  set  hys- 
sop and  weed  up  thyme,  supply  it  with  one 
gender  of  herbs  or  distract  it  with  many, 
either  to  have  it  sterile  with  idleness  or  ma- 
nured with  industry,  why,  the  power  and  cor-  330 
rigible  authority  of  this  lies  In  our  wills. 
If  the  balance  of  our  lives  had  not  one  scale 
of  reason  to  poise  another  of  sensuality,  the 
blood  and  baseness  of  our  natures  would 
conduct  us  to  most  preposterous  conclusions : 
but  we  have  reason  to  cool  our  raging 
motions,  our  carnal  stings,  our  unbitted 
lusts ;  whereof  I  take  this,  that  you  call  love, 
to  be  a  sect  or  scion. 
Rod.  It  cannot  be.  340 
lago.  It  is  merely  a  lust  of  the  blood  and  a  per- 
mission of  the  will.  Come,  be  a  man :  drown 
thyself!  drown  cats  and  blind  puppies.  I 
have  professed  me  thy  friend,  and  I  confess 
me  knit  to  thy  deserving  with  cables  of  per- 
durable toughness:  I  could  never  better 
stead  thee  than  now.  Put  money  in  thy 
purse;  follow  thou  the  wars;  defeat  thy 

323.  "are  gardens";  so  Qq.;  Ff.,  "are  our  gardens." — C.  H.  H. 
328.  "manured";  tilled.— C.  H.  H. 

332.  "balance" ;  Ff.,  "brain"  and  "braine";  Theobald,  "beam." — 
I.  G. 

348.  "Defeat''  was  used  for  disfigurement  or  alteration  of  features; 
from  the  French  de'faire.    Favor  is  countenance. — H.  N.  H. 

8» 


A.ct  I.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


favor  with  an  usurped  beard;  I  say,  put 
money  in  thy  purse.  It  cannot  be  that  Des-  350 
demona  should  long  continue  her  love  to  the 
Moor — put  money  in  thy  purse — nor  he  his 
to  her:  it  was  a  violent  commencement,  and 
thou  shalt  see  an  answerable  sequestration; 
put  but  money  in  thy  purse.  These  Moors 
are  changeable  in  their  wills : — fill  thy  purse 
with  money.  The  food  that  to  him  now  is 
as  luscious  as  locusts,  shall  be  to  him  shortly 
as  bitter  as  coloquintidaj  She  must  change 
for  youth:  when  she  is  sated  with  his  body,  360 
she  will  find  the  error  of  her  choice :  she  must 
have  change,  she  must:  therefore  put  money 
in  thy  purse.  If  thou  wilt  needs  damn  thy- 
self, do  it  a  more  delicate  way  than  drown- 
ing. Make  all  the  money  thou  canst:  if 
sanctimony  and  a  frail  vow  betwixt  an  err- 
ing barbarian  and  a  supersubtle  Venetian  be 
not  too  hard  for  my  wits  and  all  the  tribe  of 
hell,  thou  shalt  enjoy  her;  therefore  make 
money.  A  pox  of  drowning  thyself !  it  is  370 
clean  out  of  the  way :  seek  thou  rather  to  be 
hanged  in  compassing  thy  joy  than  to  be 
drowned  and  go  without  her. 

Rod.  Wilt  thou  be  fast  to  my  hopes,  if  I  de- 
pend on  the  issue? 

lago.  Thou  art  sure  of  me :  go,  make  money :  I 

358.  "luscious  as  locusts";  "perhaps  so  mentioned  from  being 
placed  together  with  wild  honey  in  St.  Matthew  iii.  4"  (Schmidt). — 
I.  G. 

362.  Omitted  in  Ff.— I.  G. 

367.  "barbarian";  with  a  play  upon  Barbary. — C.  H.  H. 

36 


THE  MOOR  Act  L  Sc.  m. 

have  told  thee  often,  and  I  re-tell  thee  again 
and  again,  I  hate  the  Moor",  my  cause  is 
hearted;  thine  hath  no  less  reason.  Let  us 
be  conjunctive  in  our  revenge  against  him:380 
if  thou  canst  cuckold  him,  thou  dost  thyself 
a  pleasure,  me  a  sport.  There  are  many 
events  in  the  womb  of  time,  which  will  be 
delivered.  Traverse;  go;  provide  thy  mon- 
ey;  We~will  have  more  of  this  to-morrow. 
Adieu. 

Rod.  Where  shall  we  meet  i'  the  morning? 
Iago.  At  my  lodging. 
Rod.  I  '11  be  with  thee  betimes.  ^ 
Iago.  Go  to;  farewell.    Do  you  hear,  Rode- 390 
rigo? 

Rod.  What  say  you? 

Iago.  No  more  of  drowning,  do  you  hear? 
Rod.  I  am  changed:  I  '11  go  sell  all  my  land.  [Exit, 
Iago.  Thus  do  I  ever  make  my  fool  my  purse; 
For  I  mine  own  gain'd  knowledge  should  pro- 
fane, 

384.  "Traverse;  go";  note  Iago's  pride  of  mastery  in  the  repetition, 
"Go,  make  money,"  to  his  anticipated  dupe,  even  stronger  than  his 
love  of  lucre;  and,  when  Roderigo  is  completely  won,  when  the  effect 
has  been  fully  produced,  the  repetition  of  his  triumph:  "Go  to; 
farewell:  put  money  enough  in  your  purse!"  The  remainder — Iago's 
soliloquy — the  motive-hunting  of  a  motiveless  malignity —  how  awful 
it  is !  Yea,  whilst  he  is  still  allowed  to  bear  the  divine  image,  it 
is  too  fiendish  for  his  own  steady  view, — for  the  lonely  gaze  of  a 
being  next  to  devil,  and  only  not  quite  devil; — and  yet  a  character 
which  Shakespeare  has  attempted  and  executed,  without  disgust  and 
without  scandal  (Coleridge). — H.  N.  H. 

390-394.  The  reading  in  the  text  is  that  of  the  second  and  third 
Quartos;  Q.  1,  adds  after  the  words  "I  am  chang'd": — 

wOoe  to,  fareivell,  put  money  enough  in  your  purse"; 
omitting  "I'll  go  sell  all  my  land." — I.  G. 

37 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


If  I  would  time  expend  with  such  a  snipe 
But  for  my  sport  and  profit.    I  hate  the  Moor; 
And  it  is  thought  abroad  that  'twixt  my  sheets 
He  has  done  my  office :  I  know  not  if 't  be  true ; 
But  for  mere  suspicion  in  that  kind  401 
Will  do  as  if  for  surety.    He  holds  me  well; 
The  better  shall  my  purpose  work  on  him. 
Cassio 's  a  proper  man :  let  me  see  now ; 
To  get  his  place,  and  to  plume  up  my  will 
In  double  knavery— How,  how? — Let 's  see: — 
After  some  time,  to  abuse  Othello's  ear 
That  he  is  too  familiar  with  his  wife. 
He  hath  a  person  and  a  smooth  dispose 
To  be  suspected;  framed  to  make  women  false. 
The  Moor  is  of  a  free  and  open  nature,  411 
That  thinks  men  honest  that  but  seem  to  be  so ; 
And  will  as  tenderly  be  led  by  the  nose 
As  asses  are. 

I  have 't.    It  is  engender'd.    Hell  and  night 
Must  bring  this  monstrous  birth  to  the  world's 
light. 

[Exit. 

402.  "as  if  for  surety";  that  is,  I  will  act  as  if  I  were  certain  of 
the  fact.  "He  holds  me  well,"  is,  he  entertains  a  good  opinion  of 
me.— H.  N.  H. 

415.  "hell  and  night";  Shakespeare  has  shown  great  judgment  in 
the  darkness  which  he  makes  to  prevail  in  the  first  counsels  of  Iago. 
To  the  Poet  himself,  all  the  succeeding  events  must  have  been  clear 
and  determined;  but  to  bring  himself  again  into  the  situation  of  one 
who  sees  them  in  embryo,  to  draw  a  mist  over  that  which  he  had 
already  cleared,  must  have  required  an  exertion  of  genius  peculiar 
to  this  author  alone.  In  so  lively  a  manner  does  he  make  Iago 
show  his  perplexity  about  the  future  management  of  his  conduct, 
that  one  is  almost  tempted  to  think  that  the  Poet  had  determined 
as  little  himself  about  some  of  the  particulars  of  Othello's  destruc- 
tion {Anderson's  Bee,  vol.  i.). — H.  N.  H. 

38 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  SECOND 

Scene  I 

A  sea-port  in  Cyprus,    An  open  place  near 
the  quay. 

Enter  Montano  and  two  Gentlemen, 

Mon.  What  from  the  cape  can  you  discern  at  sea? 
First  Gent.  Nothing  at  all:  it  is  a  high-wrought 
flood; 

I  cannot,  'twixt  the  heaven  and  the  main, 
Descry  a  sail. 
Mon.  Methinks  the  wind  hath  spoke  aloud  at  hand ; 
A  fuller  blast  ne'er  shook  our  battlements: 
If  it  hath  rufnan'd  so  upon  the  sea, 
What  ribs  of  oak,  when  mountains  melt  on 
them, 

'Can  hold  the  mortise?    What  shall  we  hear  of 
this? 

Sec.  Gent.  A  segregation  of  the  Turkish  fleet:  10 
For  do  but  stand  upon  the  foaming  shore, 
The  chidden  billow  seems  to  pelt  the  clouds ; 

1.  A  sea-port  in  Cyprus;  the  principal  seaport  town  of  Cyprus  is 
Famagusta;  where  there  was  formerly  a  strong  fort  and  commodious 
haven,  "neare  which,"  says  Knolles,  "standeth  an  old  castle,  with  four 
towers  after  the  ancient  manner  of  building."  To  this  castle  we  find 
that  Othello  presently  repairs. — H.  N.  H. 

3F  39 


Act  II.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


The  wind-shaked  surge,  with  high  and  mon- 
strous mane, 
Seems  to  cast  water  on  the  burning  bear, 
And  quench  the  guards  of  the  ever-fixed  pole  : 
I  never  did  like  molestation  view 
On  the  enchafed  flood. 
Mon.  If  that  the  Turkish  fleet 

Be  not  shelter'd  and  embay'd,  they  are  drown'd; 
It  is  impossible  to  bear  it  out. 

Enter  a  third  Gentleman. 

Third  Gent.  News,  lads!  our  wars  are  done.  20 
The  desperate  tempest  hath  so  bang'd  the 
Turks, 

That  their  designment  halts:  a  noble  ship  of 
Venice 

Hath  seen  a  grievous  wreck  and  sufferance 
On  most  part  of  their  fleet. 
Mon.  How!  is  this  true? 

Third  Gent.  The  ship  is  here  put  in, 

A  Veronesa;  Michael  Cassio, 
Lieutenant  to  the  warlike  Moor  Othello, 
Is  come  on  shore:  the  Moor  himself  at  sea, 
And  is  in  full  commission  here  for  Cyprus. 

Mon.  I  am  glad  on 't ;  'tis  a  worthy  governor.  30 

26.  "Veronesa" ;  so  this  name  is  spelled  in  the  quartos;  in  the  folio, 
Verennessa.  Modern  editors,  generally,  change  it  to  Veronese,  as 
referring,  not  to  the  ship,  but  to  Cassio.  It  is  true,  the  same  speaker 
has  just  called  the  ship  "a  noble  ship  of  Venice";  but  Verona  was 
tributary  to  the  Venetian  State;  so  that  there  is  no  reason  why  she 
might  not  belong  to  Venice,  and  still  take  her  name  from  Verona. 
The  explanation  sometimes  given  is,  that  the  speaker  makes  a  mis- 
take, and  calls  Cassio  a  Veronese,  who  has  before  been  spoken  of 
as  a  Florentine. — H.  N.  H. 

40 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  i- 


Third  Gent,  But  this  same  Cassio,  though  he  speak 
of  comfort 

Touching  the  Turkish  loss,  yet  he  looks  sadly 
And  prays  the  Moor  be  safe;  for  they  were 
parted 

With  foul  and  violent  tempest. 

Mon.  Pray  heavens  he  be ; 

For  I  have  served  him,  and  the  man  commands 
Like  a  full  soldier.    Let 's  to  the  seaside,  ho! 
As  well  to  see  the  vessel  that 's  come  in 
As  to  throw  out  our  eyes  for  brave  Othello, 
Even  till  we  make  the  main  and  the  aerial  blue 
An  indistinct  regard. 

Third  Gent.  Come,  let 's  do  so;  40 

For  every  minute  is  expectancy 
Of  more  arrivance. 

Enter  Cassio. 

Cas.  Thanks,  you  the  valiant  of  this  warlike  isle. 
That  so  approve  the  Moor!    O,  let  tne  heavens 
Give  him  defense  against  the  elements, 
For  I  have  lost  him  on  a  dangerous  sea. 

Mon.  Is  he  well  shipp'd? 

Cas.  His  bark  is  stoutly  timber' d,  and  his  pilot 
Of  very  expert  and  approved  allowance; 
Therefore  my  hopes,  not  surfeited  to  death,  50 

38.  "for  brave  Othello" ;  observe  in  how  many  ways  Othello  is 
made,  first  our  acquaintance,  then  our  friend,  then  the  object  of  our 
anxietv,  before  the  deeper  interest  is  to  be  approached  (Coleridge). — 
H.  N.  H. 

39-40;  158;  260  ("didst  not  mark  that?");  omitted  in  Q.  1.— I.  G. 

49.  "approved  allowance" ;  that  is,  of  allowed  and  approved  expert- 
ness.— H.  N.  H. 

50.  "hopes,  not  surfeited  to  death,"  is  certainly  obscure.    Dr.  John- 

41 


Act  II.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


Stand  in  bold  cure. 

\_A  cry  within:  6 A  sail,  a  sail,  a  sail!' 

Enter  a  fourth  Gentleman. 
Cas.  What  noise? 

Fourth  Gent.  The  town  is  empty;  on  the  brow  o' 
the  sea 

Stand  ranks  of  people,  and  they  cry  'A  sail!' 
Cas.  My  hopes  do  shape  him  for  the  governor, 

[Guns  heard. 

Sec.  Gent.  They  do  discharge  their  shot  of  court- 
esy: 

Our  friends  at  least. 
Cas.  I  pray  you,  sir,  go  forth, 

And  give  us  truth  who  'tis  that  is  arrived. 
Sec.  Gent.  I  shall.  [Exit. 
Mon.  But,  good  lieutenant,  is  your  general  wived? 
Cas.  Most  fortunately:  he  hath  achieved  a  maid  61 

That  paragons  description  and  wild  fame; 

One  that  excels  the  quirks  of  blazoning  pens, 

And  in  the  essential  vesture  of  creation 

Does  tire  the  ingener. 

Re-enter  second  Gentleman. 

How  now!  who  has  put  in? 

son  thought  there  must  be  some  error  in  the  text,  not  being  able  to 
understand  how  hope  could  be  increased  till  it  were  destroyed. 
Knight  explains  it  thus:  "As  'hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick/ 
so  hope  upon  hope,  without  realization,  is  a  surfeit  of  hope,  and 
extinguishes  hope.  Cassio  had  some  reasonable  facts  to  prevent  his 
hope  being  surfeited  to  death." — H.  N  .H. 

65.  "tire  the  ingener";  Knight,  Steevens  conj.;  F.  1,  "tyre  the  In- 
geniuer"  ;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "tire  the  Ingeniver" ;  Q.  1,  "beare  all  Excel- 
lency— ";  Qq.  2,  3,  "beare  an  excelency" : — Johnson  conj.  "tire  the 
ingenious  verse";  Pope,  "beare  all  excellency — " — I.  G. 

42  '  — 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  i. 


Sec.  Gent.  'Tis  one  Iago,  ancient  to  the  general. 
Cas.  He  has  had  most  favorable  and  happy  speed: 
Tempests  themselves,  high  seas,  and  howling 
winds, 

The  gutter'd  rocks,  and  congregated  sands, 
Traitors  ensteep'd  to  clog  the  guiltless  keel,  70 
As  having  sense  of  beauty,  do  omit 
Their  mortal  natures,  letting  go  safely  by 
The  divine  Desdemona. 

Mon.  What  is  she? 

Cas.  She  that  I  spake  of,  our  great  captain's  cap- 
tain, 

Left  in  the  conduct  of  the  bold  Iago; 
Whose  footing  here  anticipates  our  thoughts 
A   se'nnight's    speed.    Great   Jove,-  XJthello 
guard, 

And  swell  his  sail  with  thine  own  powerful 
breath, 

That  he  may  bless  this  bay  with  his  tall  ship, 
Make  love's  quick  pants  in  Desdemona's  arms, 
Give  renew'd  fire  to  our  extincted  spirits,  81 
And  bring  all  Cyprus  comfort. 

Enter  Desdemona,  Emilia,  Iago,  Roderigo, 
and  Attendants. 

O,  behold, 
The  riches  of  the  ship  is  come  on  shore ! 
Ye  men  of  Cyprus,  let  her  have  your  knees. 
Hail  to  thee,  lady !  and  the  grace  of  heaven, 

69.  "gutter'd";  indented.    [Perhaps  "embedded  in  mud  or  ooze," 
according  to  the  Scotch  and  Irish  sense  of  "gutter." — L.] — C.  H.  H. 
82.  "And    .    .    .    Cyprus";  omitted  in  Ff. — I.  G. 

43 


A«t  II.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


Before,  behind  thee,  and  on  every  hand, 

Enwheel  thee  round! 
Des.  I  thank  you,  valiant  Cassio. 

What  tidings  can  you  tell  me  of  my  lord? 
Cas.  He  is  not  yet  arrived:  nor  know  I  aught 

But  that  he 's  well  and  will  be  shortly  here.  90 
Des.  O,  but  I  fear — How  lost  you  company? 
Cas.  The  great  contention  of  the  sea  and  skies 

Parted  our  fellowship — But,  hark!  a  sail. 
[A  cry  within:  'A  sail,  a  sail!'    Guns  heard. 
Sec.  Gent.  They  give  their  greeting  to  the  citadel : 

This  likewise  is  a  friend. 
Cas.  See  for  the  News.  [Exit  Gentleman. 

Good  ancient,  you  are  welcome.    [To  Emilia] 
Welcome,  mistress : 

Let  it  not  gall  your  patience,  good  Iago, 

That  I  extend  my  manners;  'tis  my  breeding 

That  gives  me  this  bold  show  of  courtesy.  100 

[Kissing  her. 

Iago.  Sir,  would  she  give  you  so  much  of  her  lips 
As  of  her  tongue  she  oft  bestows  on  me, 
You  'Id  have  enough. 

Des.  Alas,  she  has  no  speech. 

Iago.  In  faith,  too  much; 

100.  "bold  show  of  courtesy";  observe  Othello's  "honest,"  and  Cas- 
sio's  "bold"  Iago;  and  Cassio's  full  guileless-hearted  wishes  for  the 
safety  and  love-raptures  of  Othello  and  "the  divine  Desdemona." 
And  note  also  the  exquisite  circumstance  of  Cassio's  kissing  Iago's 
wife,  as  if  it  ought  to  be  impossible  that  the  dullest  auditor  should 
not  feel  Cassio's  religious  love  of  Desdemona's  purity.  Iago's  an- 
swers are  the  sneers  which  a  proud  bad  intellect  feels  towards 
women,  and  expresses  to  a  wife.  Surely  it  ought  to  be  considered 
a  very  exalted  compliment  to  women,  that  all  the  sarcasms  on  them 
in  Shakespeare  are  put  in  the  mouths  of  villains  (Coleridge). — 
H.  N.  H. 

44 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  i. 


I  find  it  still  when  I  have  list  to  sleep  : 
Marry,  before  your  ladyship,  I  grant, 
She  puts  her  tongue  a  little  in  her  heart 
And  chides  with  thinking. 

Emil.  You  have  little  cause  to  say  so. 

lago.  Come  on,  come  on;  you  are  pictures  out  of 
doors,  110 
Bells  in  your  parlors,  wild-cats  in  your  kitchens, 
Saints  in  your  injuries,  devils  being  offended, 
Players  in  your  housewifery,  and  housewives  in 
your  beds. 

Des.  O,  fie  upon  thee,  slanderer! 

Iago.  Nay,  it  is  true,  or  else  I  am  a  Turk: 
You  rise  to  play,  and  go  to  bed  to  work. 

Emil.  You  shall  not  write  my  praise. 

Iago.  No,  let  me  not. 

Des.  What  wouldst  thou  write  of  me,  if  thou 
shouldst  praise  me? 

Iago.  O  gentle  lady,  do  not  put  me  to 't ; 

For  I  am  nothing  if  not  critical.  120 

Des.  Come  on,  assay — There 's  one  gone  to  the 
harbor  ? 

Iago.  Aye,  madam. 

Des.  I  am  not  merry ;  but  I  do  beguile 
The  thing  I  am  by  seeming  otherwise. 
Come,  how  wouldst  thou  praise  me? 

Iago.  I  am  about  it ;  but  indeed  my  invention 

Comes  from  my  pate  as  birdlime  does  from 
frize; 

112.  "saints  in  your  injuries";  that  is,  when  you  have  a  mind  to  do 
injuries,  you  put  on  an  air  of  sanctity. — H.  N.  H. 


45 


Act  II.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


It  plucks  out  brains  and  all:  but  my  Muse 

labors, 
And  thus  she  is  deliver'd. 

If  she  be  fair  and  wise,  fairness  and  wit,  130 
The  one 's  for  use,  the  other  useth  it. 
Des.  Well  praised !    How  if  she  be  black  and 
witty  ? 

I  ago.  If  she  be  black,  and  thereto  have  a  wit, 

She  '11  find  a  white  that  shall  her  blackness  fit. 

Des.  Worse  and  worse. 

Emil.  How  if  fair  and  foolish? 

lago.  She  never  yet  was  foolish  that  was  fair; 
For  even  her  folly  help'd  her  to  an  heir. 

Des.  These  are  old  fond  paradoxes  to  make 
fools  laugh  i'  the  ale  house.    What  miser-  140 
able  praise  hast  thou  for  her  that 's  foul  and 
foolish? 

lago.  There 's  none  so  foul,  and  foolish  thereunto, 
But  does  foul  pranks  which  fair  and  wise  ones 
do. 

Des.  O  heavy  ignorance!  thou  praisest  the 
worst  best.  But  what  praise  couldst  thou 
bestow  on  a  deserving  woman  indeed,  one 
that  in  the  authority  of  her  merit  did  justly 
put  on  the  vouch  of  very  malice  itself?  150 

lago.  She  that  was  ever  fair  and  never  proud, 
Had  tongue  at  will  and  yet  was  never  loud, 
Never  lack'd  gold  and  yet  went  never  gay, 
Fled  from  her  wish  and  yet  said  'Now  I  may;' 
She  that,  being  anger'd,  her  revenge  being  nigh, 
Bade  her  wrong  stay  and  her  displeasure  fly ; 
She  that  in  wisdom  never  was  so  frail 
46 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  I 


To  change  the  cod's  head  for  the  salmon's  tail; 
She  that  could  think  and  ne'er  disclose  her  mind, 
See  suitors  following  and  not  look  behind;  160 
She  was  a  wight,  if  ever  such  wight  were, — 
Des.  To  do  what? 

lago.  To  suckle  fools  and  chronicle  small  beer. 

Des.  O  most  lame  and  impotent  conclusion! 
Do  not  learn  of  him,  Emilia,  though  he  be 
thy  husband.  How  say  you,  Cassio?  is  he 
not  a  most  profane  and  liberal  counselor? 

Cas.  He  speaks  home,  madam:  you  may  relish 
him  more  in  the  soldier  than  in  the  scholar. 

Iago.  [Aside]  He  takes  her  by  the  palm:  aye,  170 
well  said,  whisper :  with  as  little  a  web  as  this  J 
will  I  ensnare  as  great  a  fly  as  Cassio.  Aye, 
smile  upon  her,  do ;  I  will  gyve  thee  in  thine 
own  courtship.    You  say  true;  'tis  so,  in- 
deed :  if  such  tricks  as  these  strip  you  out  of 
your  lieutenantry,  it  had  been  better  you  had 
not  kissed  your  three  fingers  so  oft,  which 
now  again  you  are  most  apt  to  play  the  sir 
in.    Very  good;  well  kissed!  an  excellent 
courtesy !  'tis  so,  indeed.    Yet  again  your  180 
fingers  to  your  lips  ?  would  they  were  clyster- 
pipes  for  your  sake! — {Trumpet  within.'] 
The  Moor !    I  know  his  trumpet. 

158.  "change  cod's  head  for  salmon's  tail";  that  is,  to  exchange  a 
delicacy  for  coarser  fare.  So  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  Household  Book: 
"Item,  the  master  cookes  have  to  fee  all  the  salmon's  tailes."—* 
H.  N.  H. 

163.  "chronicle  small  beer";  that  is,  to  suckle  children  and  keep  the 
accounts  of  the  household. — H.  N.  H. 

168.  "you  may  relish  him  more"  etc.  Iago's  bluntness  would  be 
repugnant  in  a  scholar,  but  is  becoming  in  a  soldier. — C.  H.  H. 

47 


Act  II.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


Cas.  'Tis  truly  so. 

Des.  Let 's  meet  him  and  receive  him. 
Cas.  Lo,  where  he  comes ! 

Enter  Othello  and  Attendants. 

Oth.  O  my  fair  warrior! 

Des.  My  dear  Othello! 

Oth.  It  gives  me  wonder  great  as  my  content 
To  see  you  here  before  me.    O  my  soul's  joy! 
If  after  every  tempest  comes  such  calms,  190 
May  the  winds  blow  till  they  have  waken" d 
death! 

And  let  the  laboring  bark  climb  hills  of  seas 

Olympus-high,  and  duck  again  as  low 

As  hell 's  from  heaven!    If  it  were  now  to  die, 

'Twere  now  to  be  most  happy!  for  I  fear, 

My  soul  hath  her  content  so  absolute 

That  not  another  comfort  like  to  this 

Succeeds  in  unknown  fate. 

Des.  The  heavens  forbid 

But  that  our  loves  and  comforts  should  increase,  - 
Even  as  our  days  do  grow ! 

Oth.  Amen  to  that,  sweet  powers !  200 

I  cannot  speak  enough  of  this  content ; 
It  stops  me  here;  it  is  too  much  of  joy: 
And  this,  and  this,  the  greatest  discords  be 

[Kissing  her. 

That  e'er  our  hearts  shall  make ! 

187.  "fair  warrior" ;  perhaps  Othello  intends  a  playful  allusion  to 
the  unwillingness  Desdemona  has  expressed  to  "be  left  behind,  a  moth 
of  peace,  and  he  go  to  the  war."  Steevens,  however,  thinks  it  was 
a  term  of  endearment  derived  from  the  old  French  poets;  as  Ron- 
sard,  in  his  sonnets,  often  calls  the  ladies  guerrieres. — H.  N.  H. 

48 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  i. 


lago.  [Aside]  O,  you  are  well  tuned  now! 

But  I  '11  set  down  the  pegsThat  make  this  music, 

As  honest  as  I  am. 
Oih.  Come,  let  us  to  the  castle. 

News,  friends ;  our  wars  are  done,  the  Turks  are 
drown'd. 

How  does  my  old  acquaintance  of  this  isle  ? 
Honey,  you  shall  be  well  desired  in  Cyprus; 
I  have  found  great  love  amongst  them.    O  my 

sweet,  210 
*  I  prattle  out  of  fashion,  and  I  dote 

In  mine  own  comforts.    I  prithee,  good  lago, 

Go  to  the  bay,  and  disembark  my  cofF ers : 

Bring  thou  the  master  to  the  citadel; 

He  is  a  good  one,  and  his  worthiness 

Does  challenge  much  respect.    Come,  Desde- 

mona, 

Once  more  well  met  at  Cyprus. 

[Exeunt  all  but  lago  and  Roderigo. 
lago.  Do  thou  meet  me  presently  at  the  har- 
bor. Come  hither.  If  thou  be'st  valiant — 
as,  they  say,  base  men  being  in  love  have  220 
then  a  nobility  in  their  natures  more  than  is 
native  to  them — list  me.  The  lieutenant  to- 
night watches  on  the  court  of  guard.  First, 

206.  "As  honest  as  I  am";  Coleridge,  as  we  have  seen  in  a  former 
note,  pronounces  lago  "a  being  next  to  devil,  and  only  not  quite 
devil."  It  is  worth  noting  that  Milton's  Satan  relents  at  the  prospect 
of  ruining  the  happiness  before  him,  and  prefaces  the  deed  with  a 
gush  of  pity  for  the  victims;  whereas  the  same  thought  puts  lago 
in  a  transport  of  jubilant  ferocity.  Is  our  idea  of  Satan's  wicked- 
ness enhanced  by  his  thus  indulging  such  feelings,  and  then  acting 
in  defiance  of  them,  or  as  if  he  had  them  not?  or  is  lago  more 
devilish  than  he? — H.  N.  H. 

XXV— 4  4Q 


Act  II.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


I  must  tell  thee  this :  Desdemona  is  directly 
in  love  with  him. 

Rod.  With  him!  why,  'tis  not  possible. 

lago.  Lay  thy  finger  thus,  and  let  thy  soul  be 
instructed.  Mark  me  with  what  violence 
she  first  loved  the  Moor,  but  for  bragging 
and  telling  her  fantastical  lies :  and  will  she  230 
love  him  still  for  prating?  let  not  thy  dis- 
creet heart  think  it.  Her  eye  must  be  fed; 
and  what  delight  shall  she  have  to  look  on 
the  devil?  When  the  blood  is  made  dull  with 
the  act  of  sport,  there  should  be,  again  to 
inflame  it  and  to  give  satiety  a  fresh  appetite, 
loveliness  in  favor,  sympathy  in  years,  man- 
ners and  beauties;  all  which  the  Moor  is  de- 
fective in:  now,  for  want  of  these  required 
conveniences,  her  delicate  tenderness  will  240 
find  itself  abused,  begin  to  heave  the  gorge, 
disrelish  and  abhor  the  Moor;  very  nature 
will  instruct  her  in  it  and  compel  her  to  some 
second  choice.  Now,  sir,  this  granted — as 
it  is  a  most  pregnant  and  unforced  position 
— who  stands  so  eminently  in  the  degree  of 
this  fortune  as  Cassio  does?  a  knave  very 
voluble;  no  further  conscionable  than  in  put- 
ting on  the  mere  form  of  civil  and  humane 
seeming,  for  the  better  compassing  of  his  250 
salt  and  most  hidden  loose  affection?  why, 
none ;  why,  none :  a  slipper  and  subtle  knave ; 
a  finder  out  of  occasions ;  that  has  an  eye  can 

227.  "Lay  thy  finger  thus";  on  thy  mouth  to  stop  it,  while  thou 
art  listening  to  a  wiser  man. — H.  N.  H. 

50 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  i 


stamp  and  counterfeit  advantages,  though 
true  advantage  never  present  itself :  a  devel- 
ish  knave!  Besides,  the  knave  is  handsome, 
young,  and  hath  all  those  requisites  in  him 
that  folly  and  green  minds  look  after :  a  pes- 
tilent complete  knave;  and  the  woman  hath 
found  him  already.  260 

Rod.  I  cannot  believe  that  in  her;  she 's  full  of 
most  blest  condition. 

Iago.  Blest  fig's-end!  the  wine  she  drinks  is 
made  of  grapes:  if  she  had  been  blest,  she 
would  never  have  loved  the  Moor :  blest  pud- 
ding! Didst  thou  not  see  her  paddle  with 
the  palm  of  his  hand?  didst  not  mark  that? 

Rod.  Yes,  that  I  did;  but  that  was  but  cour- 
tesy. 

Iago.  Lechery,  by  this  hand ;  an  index  and  ob-  270 
scure  prologue  to  the  history  of  lust  and  foul 
thoughts.  They  met  so  near  with  their  lips 
that  their  breaths  embraced  together.  Vil- 
lainous thoughts,  Roderigo !  when  these  mu- 
tualities so  marshal  the  way,  hard  at  hand 
comes  the  master  and  main  exercise,  the  in- 
corporate conclusion :  pish !  But,  sir,  be  you 
ruled  by  me:  I  have  brought  you  from 
Venice.  Watch  you  to-night;  for  the  com- 
mand, I  11  lay 't  upon  you :  Cassio  knows  28(1 

255.  "a  devilish  knave";  omitted  in  Qq. — I.  G. 

265.  "blest  pudding";  Ff.  "Bless'd  pudding";  omitted  in  Qq. — 
I.  G. 

276-277.  "comes  the  master  and  main";  so  Ff.;  Q.  1  reads  "comes 
the  maine";  Qq.  2,  3,  "comes  Roderigo,  the  master  and  the  maine." 
-I.  G. 

51 


Act  II.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


you  not:  I  '11  not  be  far  from  you:  do  youv 
find  some  occasion  to  anger  Cassio,  either 
by  speaking  too  loud,  or  tainting  his  disci- 
pline, or  from  what  other  course  you  please, 
which  the  time  shall  more  favorably  minister. 
Rod.  Well. 

lago.  Sir,  he  is  rash  and  very  sudden  in  choler, 
and  haply  may  strike  at  you:  provoke  him, 
that  he  may;  for  even  out  of  that  will  I  cause 
^  these  of  Cyprus  to  mutiny;  whose  qualifica-  290 

tion  shall  come  into  no  true  taste  again  but 
. ,  by  the  displanting  of  JCassio.  So  shall  you 
have  a  shorter  journey  to  your  desires  by  the 
means  I  shall  then  have  to  prefer  them,  and 
the  impediment  most  profitably  removed, 
without  the  which  there  were  no  expectation 
of  our  prosperity. 

Rod.  I  will  do  this,  if  I  can  bring  it  to  any 
opportunity. 

lago.  I  warrant  thee.    Meet  me  by  and  by  at  300 
the  citadel:  I  must  fetch  his  necessaries 
ashore.  Farewell. 

Rod.  Adieu.  [Exit. 

lago.  That  Cassio  loves  her,  I  do  well  believe  it ;  • 
That  she  loves  him,  'tis  apt  and  of  great  credit: 
The  Moor,  howbeit  that  I  endure  him  not, 
Is  of  a  constant,  loving,  noble  nature ; 
And  I  dare  think  he  '11  prove  to  Desdemona 
A  most  dear  husband.    Now,  I  do  love  her  too, 
Not  out  of  absolute  lust,  though  peradventure 
I  stand  accountant  for  as  great  a  sin,  310 

288.  "haply  may";  Qq.  read  "haply  with  his  Trunchen  may." — I.  G. 

52 


THE  MOOR  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

But  partly  led  to  diet  my  revenge, 
For  that  I  do  suspect  the  lusty  Moor 
Hath  leap'd  into  my  seat:  the  thought  whereof  y 
Doth  like  a  poisonous  mineral  gnaw  my  in- 
wards ; 

And  nothing  can  or.  shall  content  my  soul 
Till  I  am  even'd  with  him,  wife  for  wife ; 
Or  failing  so,  yet  that  I  put  the_Moor  / 
At  least  into  a  jealousy  so  strong 
That  judgment  cannot  cure.    Which  thing  to 
do, 

If  this  poor  trash  of  Venice,  whom  I  trash  330 
For  his  quick  hunting,  stand  the  putting  on, 
I  '11  have  our  Michael  Cassio  on  the  hip, 
Abuse  him  to  the  Moor  in  the  rank  garb  ; 
For  I  fear  Cassio  with  my  night-cap  too.; 
Make  the  Moor  thank  me,  love  me  and  reward 
me, 

For  making  him  egregiously  an  ass 
And  practising  upon  his  peace  and  quiet 
Even  to  madness.    'Tis  here,  butyet  confused : 
Knavery's  plain  face  is  never  seen  till  used. 

[Exit. 

320.  "poor  trash  of  Venice,  whom  I  trash".'  Steevens'  emendation; 
Q.  1,  "poor  trash  ...  J  crush";  Ff.,  Qq.  2,  3,  "poor  Trash 
.  .  .  /  trace";  Theobald,  Warburton  conj.  "poor  brach  .  .  . 
I  trace";  Warburton  (later  conj.)  "poor  brach  ...  7  cherish." 
— I.  G. 

321.  "stand  the  putting  on";  prove  equal  to  the  chase  when  cried 
on  to  the  quarry.  Iago  hampers  Roderigo's  "quick  hunting"  of  Des- 
demona  to  start  him  on  his  own  prey. — C.  H.  H. 

329.  "never  seen  till  used";  an  honest  man  acts  upon  a  plan,  and 
forecasts  his  designs;  but  a  knave  depends  upon  temporary  and 
local  opportunities,  and  never  knows  his  own  purpose,  but  at  the 
time  of  execution  (Johnson). — H.  N.  H. 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Scene  II 
A  street. 

Enter  a  Herald  with  a  proclamation;  People  fol- 
lowing. 

Her.  It  is  Othello's  pleasure,  our  noble  and  val- 
iant general,  that  upon  certain  tidings  now 
arrived,  importing  the  mere  perdition  of  the 
Turkish  fleet,  every  man  put  himself  into 
triumph;  some  to  dance,  some  to  make  bon- 
fires, each  man  to  what  sport  and  revels  his 
addiction  leads  him:  for,  besides  these  bene- 
ficial news,  it  is  the  celebration  of  his  nuptial. 
So  much  was  his  pleasure  should  be  pro- 
claimed. All  offices  are  open,  and  there  is  1° 
full  liberty  of  feasting  from  this  present 
hour  of  five  till  the  bell  have  told  eleven. 
Heaven  bless  the  isle  of  Cyprus  and  our  no- 
ble general  Othello !  [Exeunt. 


Scene  III 

A  hall  in  the  castle. 

Enter  Othello,  Desdemona,  Cassio,  and  Attendants. 

Oth.  Good  Michael,  look  you  to  the  guard  to- 
night : 

10.  "All  offices  are  open";  All  rooms,  or  places  in  the  castle,  at 
which  refreshments  are  prepared  or  served  out. — H.  N.  H. 

54 


THE  MOOR  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Let 's  teach  ourselves  that  honorable  stop, 

Not  to  outsport  discretion. 
Cas.  Iago  hath  direction  what  to  do ; 

But  notwithstanding  with  my  personal  eye 

Will  I  look  to 't. 
Oth.  Iago  is  most  honest. 

Michael,   good  night :  to-morrow  with  your 
earliest 

Let  me  have  speech  with  you.    Come,  my  dear 
love, 

The  purchase  made,  the  fruits  are  to  ensue; 
That  profit 's  yet  to  come  'tween  me  and  you. 
Good  night.  11 
[Exeunt  Othello,  Desdemona,  and  Attendants. 

Enter  Iago. 

Cas.  Welcome,  Iago ;  we  must  to  the  watch. 

Iago.  Not  this  hour,  lieutenant ;  'tis  not  yet  ten 
o'  the  clock.  Our  general  cast  us  thus  early 
for  the  love  of  his  Desdemona;  who  let  us 
not  therefore  blame:  he  hath  not  yet  made 

•    wanton  the  night  with  her,  and  she  is  sport 
for  Jove. 

Cas.  She 's  a  most  exquisite  lady. 

Iago.  And,  I  '11  warrant  her,  full  of  game.  <-  20 

Cas.  Indeed  she 's  a  most  fresh  and  delicate  ^ 
creature. 

Iago.  What  an  eye  she  has!  methinks  it  sounds 

a  parley  to  provocation. 
Cas.  An  inviting  eye;  and  yet  methinks  right 

modest. 


55 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


lago.  And  when  she  speaks,  is  it  not  an  alarum 
to  love  ? 

Cas.  She  is  indeed  perfection. 

lago.  Well,  happiness  to  their  sheets!    Come,  30 
lieutenant,  I  have  a  stoup  of  wine ;  and  here 
without  are  a  brace  of  Cyprus  gallants  that 
would  fain  have  a  measure  to  the  health  of 
black  Othello. 

Cas.  Not  to-night,  good  lago :  I  have  very  poor 
and  unhappy  brains  for  drinking:  I  could 
well  wish  courtesy  would  invent  some  other 
custom  of  entertainment. 

lago.  O,  they  are  our  friends ;  but  one  cup :  I  '11 
drink  for  you.  40 

Cas.  I  have  drunk  but  one  cup  to-night,  and 
that  was  craftily  qualified  too,  and  behold 
what  innovation  it  makes  here:  I  am  unfor- 
tunate in  the  infirmity,  and  dare  not  task  my 
weakness  with  any  more. 

lago.  What,  man !  'tis  a  night  of  revels :  the  gal- 
lants desire  it. 

30-46.  In  these  few  short  speeches  of  lago  is  disclosed  the  inner- 
most soul  of  a  cold  intellectual  sensualist,  his  faculties  dancing  and 
capering  amidst  the  provocatives  of  passion,  because  himself  with- 
out passion.  Senseless  or  reckless  of  everything  good,  but  keenly 
alive  to  whatsoever  he  can  turn  to  a  bad  use,  his  mind  acts  like  a 
sieve,  to  strain  out  all  the  wine  and  retain  only  the  lees  of  woman- 
hood; which  lees  he  delights  to  hold  up  as  the  main  constituents  of 
the  sex.  And  Cassio's  very  delicacy  and  religiousness  of  thought 
prevent  his  taking  offense  at  the  villain's  heartless  and  profane  levity, 
lago  then  goes  on  to  suit  himself  to  all  the  demands  of  the  frankest 
joviality.  As  he  is  without  any  feelings,  so  he  can  feign  them  all 
indifferently,  to  work  out  his  design.  Knight  justly  observes  that 
"other  dramatists  would  have  made  him  gloomy  and  morose;  but 
Shakespeare  knew  that  the  boon  companion,  and  the  cheat  and  trai- 
tor, are  not  essentially  distinct  characters." — H.  N.  H. 

43.  "here"  i.  e.  in  my  head. — L  G. 

56 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  iiL 


Cas.  Where  are  they? 

Iago.  Here  at  the  door;  I  pray  you,  call  them  in. 
Cas.  I '11  do 't;  but  it  dislikes  me.  [Exit.  50 

Iago.  If  I  can  fasten  but  one  cup  upon  him, 
With  that  which  he  hath  drunk  to-night  al- 
ready, 

He  '11  be  as  full  of  quarrel  and  offense 
As  my  young  mistress'  dog.    Now  my  sick  fool 
Roderigo, 

Whom  love  hath  turn'd  almost  wrong  side  out* 
To  Desdemona  hath  to-night  caroused 
Potations  pottle-deed ;  and  he 's  to  watch : 
Three  lads  of  Cyprus,  noble  swelling  spirits, 
That  hold  their  honors  in  a  wary  distance, 
The  very  elements  of  this  warlike  isle,  60 
Have  I  to-night  fluster'd  with  flowing  cups, 
And  they  watch  too.    Now,  'mongst  this  flock 

of  drunkards, 
Am  I  to  put  our  Cassio  in  some  action 
That  may  off  end  the  isle.    But  here  they  come : 
If  consequence  do  but  approve  my  dream, 
My  boat  sails  freely,  both  with  wind  and  stream. 

Re-enter  Cassio;  with  him  Montano  and  Gentle- 
men; Servants  following  with  wine. 

Cas.  Tore  God,  they  have  given  me  a  rouse  al- 
ready. 

Mon.  Good  faith,  a  little  one;  not  past  a  pint,  as  I 
am  a  soldier.  70 

60.  "warlike  isle";  as  quarrelsome  as  the  discordia  semina  rerum;. 
as  quick  in  opposition  as  fire  and  water  (Johnson). — H.  N.  H 


57 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Iago.  Some  wine,  ho! 

[Sings]    And  let  me  the  canakin  clink,  clink 
And  let  me  the  canakin  clink: 

A  soldier  's  a  man ; 

A  life 's  but  a  span; 
Why  then  let  a  soldier  drink. 

Some  wine,  boys! 

Cas.  'Fore  God,  an  excellent  song. 

Iago.  I  learned  it  in  England,  where  indeed 
they  are  most  potent  in  potting:  your  Dane,  80 
your  German,  and  your  swag-bellied  Hol- 
lander,— Drink,  ho! — are  nothing  to  your 
English. 

Cas.  Is  your  Englishman  so  expert  in  his  drink- 
ing? 

Iago.  Why,  he  drinks  you  with  facility  your 
Dane  dead  chunk;  he  sweats  not  to  over- 
throw your  Almain ;  he  gives  your  Hollander 
a  vomit  ere  the  next  pottle  can  be  filled. 

Cas.  To  the  health  of  our  general!  90 

21  on.  I  am  for  it,  lieutenant,  and  I  '11  do  you 
justice. 

Iago.  O  sweet  England! 

[Sings]  King  Stephen  was  a  worthy  peer, 

His  breeches  cost  him  but  a  crown ; 
He  held  them  sixpence  all  too  dear, 
With  that  he  call'd  the  tailor  lown. 

91.  "do  you  justice";  that  is,  drink  as  much  as  you  do. — H.  X.  H. 
94—101.  These  lines  are  from  an  old  song  called  '  Take  thy  old 
cloak  about  thee"  to  be  found  in  Percy's  Reliques. — I.  G. 


58 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


He  was  a  wight  of  high  renown, 
And  thou  art  but  of  low  degree: 

'Tis  pride  that  pulls  the  country  down ;  100 
Then  take  thine  auld  cloak  about  thee. 

Some  wine,  ho! 

Cas.  Why,  this  is  a  more  exquisite  song  than 
the  other. 

lago.  Will  you  hear 't  again  ? 

Cas.  No;  for  I  hold  him  to  be  unworthy  of  his 
place  that  does  those  things.  Well :  God 's 
above  all;  and  there  be  souls  must  be  saved, 
and  there  be  souls  must  not  be  saved. 

lago.  It 's  true,  good  lieutenant.  110 

Cas.  For  mine  own  part — no  offense  to  the 
general,  nor  any  man  of  quality — I  hope  to 
be  saved. 

lago.  And  so  do  I  too,  lieutenant. 

Cas.  Aye,  but,  by  your  leave,  not  before  me ;  the 
lieutenant  is  to  be  saved  before  the  ancient. 
Let 's  have  no  more  of  this ;  let 's  to  our  af- 
fairs. God  forgive  us  our  sins!  Gentle- 
men, let 's  look  to  our  business.  Do  not 
think,  gentlemen,  I  am  drunk :  this  is  my  an-  120 
cient:  this  is  my  right  hand,  and  this  is  my 
left.  I  am  not  drunk  now;  I  can  stand 
well  enough,  and  speak  well  enough. 

AIL  Excellent  well. 

Cas.  Why,  very  well  then;  you  must  not  think 
then  that  I  am  drunk.  [Exit. 

Mon.  To  the  platform,  masters;  come,  let 's  set 
the  watch. 


59 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


lago.  You  see  this  fellow  that  is  gone  before ; 

He  is  a  soldier  fit  to  stand  by  Caesar  130 

And  give  direction :  and  do  but  see  his  vice ; 

'Tis  to  his  virtue  a  just  equinox, 

The  one  as  long  as  the  other :  'tis  pity  of  him. 

I  fear  the  trust  Othello  puts  him  in 

On  some  odd  time  of  his  infirmity 

Will  shake  this  island. 
Mon.  But  is  he  often  thus? 

lago.  'Tis  evermore  the  prologue  to  his  sleep : 

He  '11  watch  the  horologe  a  double  set, 

If  drink  rock  not  his  cradle. 
Mon.  It  were  well 

The  general  were  put  in  mind  of  it.  140 

Perhaps  he  sees  it  not,  or  his  good  nature 

Prizes  the  virtue  that  appears  in  Cassio 

And  looks  not  on  his  evils :  is  not  this  true  ? 

Enter  Roderigo. 

lago.  [Aside  to  him~\  How  now,  Roderigo! 

I  pray  you,  after  the  lieutenant;  go. 

[Exit  Rodena^ 
Mon.  And  'tis  great  pity  that  the  noble  Moo. 

Should  hazard  such  a  place  as  his  own  second 

With  one  of  an  ingraft  infirmity: 

It  were  an  honest  action  to  say 

So  to  the  Moor. 

130.  "a  soldier  fit  to  stand  by  Ccesar";  how  differently  the  liar 
speaks  of  Cassio's  soldiership  to  Montano  and  to  Roderigo!  He  is 
now  talking  where  he  is  liable  to  be  called  to  account  for  ais  words. — 
H.  N.  H. 

138.  "set";  series  of  twelve  hours.  He  will  watch  a  whole  day  and 
night.— C.  H.  H. 


60 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


Iago. 


Not  I,  for  this  fair  island: 


I  do  love  Cassio  well,  and  would  do  much  150 
To  cure  him  of  this  evil: — But,  hark!  what 


Re-enter  Cassio ,  driving  in  Roderigo. 

Cas.  'Zounds !  you  rogue !  you  rascal ! 
Mon.  What 's  the  matter,  lieutenant? 
Cas.  A  knave  teach  me  my  duty!    But  I  '11 

beat  the  knave  into  a  wicker  bottle. 
Rod.  Beat  me! 

Cas.  Dost  thou  prate,  rogue?  [Striking  Roderigo.  y 
Mon.  Nay,  good  lieutenant;  I  pray  you,  sir, 

hold  your  hand. 
Cas.  Let  me  go,  sir,  or  I  '11  knock  you  o'er  the 

mazzard. 
Mon.  Come,  come,  you  're  drunk. 
Cas.  Drunk!  [They  fight. 

Iago.  [Aside  to  Roderigo]  Away,  I  say;  go  out  v 

and  cry  a  mutiny.  [Eadt  Roderigo.  I60 

Nay,  good  lieutenant!    God's  will,  gentlemen! 
Help,  ho ! — Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano, — 

sir ; — 

Help,  masters! — Here's  a  goodly  watch  in- 
deed! [A  bell  rings. 
Who 's  that  that  rings  the  bell ?— Diablo,  ho! 
The  town  will  rise:  God's  will,  lieutenant,  hold; 
You  will  be  shamed  for  ever. 


noise  ? 


A  cry  within:  'Help!  help!' 


Oth. 


Re-enter  Othello  and  Attendants. 

What  is  the  matter  here? 
61 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Mo n.  'Zounds,  I  bleed  still;  I  am  hurt  to  the  death. 

[Faints. 

Oth.  Hold,  for  your  lives! 

Iago.  Hold,   ho;   Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano, — 
gentlemen, —  169 
Have  you  forgot  all  sense  of  place  and  duty  ] 
Hold!  the  general  speaks  to  you;  hold,  hold,  for 
shame ! 

Oth.  Why,  how  now,  ho!  from  whence  ariseth  this? 
y  Are  we  turn'd  Turks,  and  to  ourselves  do  that 
Which  heaven  hath  forbid  the  Ottomites? 
For  Christian  shame,  put  by  this  barbarous 
brawl : 

He  that  stirs  next  to  carve  for  his  own  rage 
Holds  his  soul  light ;  he  dies  upon  his  motion. 
Silence  that  dreadful  bell:  it  frights  the  isle 
From  her  proprietv.    What  is  the  matter,  mas- 
ters? 179 
Honest  Iago,  that  look'st  dead  with  grieving, 
Speak,  who  began  this?  on  thy  love,  I  charge 
thee. 

Iago.  I  do  not  know :  friends  all  but  now,  even  now, 
In  quarter,  and  in  terms  like  bride  and  groom 
Devesting  them  for  bed;  and  then,  but  now, 
As  if  some  planet  had  unwitted  men, 
Swords  out,  and  tilting  one  at  other's  breast, 
In  opposition  bloody.    I  cannot  speak 
Any  beginning  to  this  peevish  odds, 
And  would  in  action  glorious  I  had  lost 

170.  "seme  of  place";  Hanmer's  emendation  of  Qq.,  Ff.,  "place  of 
sense."— I.  G. 

173.  "turn'd  Turks":  a  bitter  play  upon  the  proverbial  phrase, 
which  meant  to  "make  a  complete  change  for  the  worse." — C.  H.  H. 

62 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


Those  legs  that  brought  me  to  a  part  of  it !  190 

Oih.  How  comes  it,  Michael,  you  are  thus  forgot? 

Cas.  I  pray  you,  pardon  me ;  I  cannot  speak. 

Oth.  Worthy  Montano,  you  were  wont  be  civil ; 
The  gravity  and  stillness  of  your  youth 
The  world  hath  noted,  and  your  name  is  great 
In  mouths  of  wisest  censure :  what 's  the  matter, 
That  you  unlace  your  reputation  thus, 
And  spend  your  rich  opinion  for  the  name 
Of  a  night-brawler?  give  me  answer  to  it. 

Mon.  Worthy  Othello,  I  am  hurt  to  danger :  200 
Your  officer,  Iago,  can  inform  you — 
While  I  spare  speech,  which  something  now  of- 
fends me — 
Of  all  that  I  do  know :  nor  know  I  aught 
By  me  that 's  said  or  done  amiss  this  night ; 
Unless  self -charity  be  sometimes  a  vice, 
And  to  defend  ourselves  it  be  a  sin 
When  violence  assails  us. 

Oih.  Now,  by  heaven 

My  blood  begins  my  safer  guides  to  rule, 
And  passion,  having  my  best  judgment  col- 
lied, 

Assays  to  lead  the  way :  if  I  once  stir,  210 
Or  do  but  lift  this  arm,  the  best  of  you 
Shall  sink  in  my  rebuke.    Give  me  to  know  y 
How  this  foul  rout  began,  who  set  it  on, 
And  he  that  is  approved  in  this  off  ense, 
Though  he  had  twinn'd  with  me,  both  at  a  birth, 
Shall  lose  me.    What !  in  a  town  of  war, 
Yet  wild,  the  people's  hearts  brimful  of  fear, 
To  manage  private  and  domestic  quarrel, 

6* 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


In  night,  and  on  the  court  and  guard  of  safety! 

'Tis  monstrous.  Iago,  who  began 't?  220 
Mon.  If  partially  affined,  or  leagued  in  office, 

Thou  dost  deliver  more  or  less  than  truth, 

Thou  art  no  soldier. 
Iago.  Touch  me  not  so  near: 

I  had  rather  have  this  tongue  cut  from  my 
mouth 

Than  it  should  do  offense  to  Michael  Cassio; 
Yet,  I  persuade  myself,  to  speak  the  truth 
Shall  nothing  wrong  him.    Thus  it  is,  general. 
Montano  and  myself  being  in  speech, 
There  comes  a  fellow  crying  out  for  help, 
And  Cassio  following  him  with  determined 
sword,  230 
To  execute  upon  him.    Sir,  this  gentleman 
Steps  in  to  Cassio  and  entreats  his  pause:  ■ 
Myself  the  crying  fellow  did  pursue, 
Lest  by  his  clamor — as  it  so  fell  out — 
The  town  might  fall  in  fright:  he,  swift  of  foot, 
Outran  my  purpose !  and  I  return'd  the  rather 
For  that  I  heard  the  clink  and  fall  of  swords, 
^And  Cassio  high  in  oath;  which  till  to-night 
I  ne'er  might  say  before.    When  I  came  back — 
For  this  was  brief — I  found  them  close  to- 
gether, 240 
At  blow  and  thrust ;  even  as  again  they  were 
When  you  yourself  did  part  them. 
More  of  this  matter  cannot  I  report: 
But  men  are  men;  the  best  sometimes  forget: 
Though  Cassio  did  some  little  wrong  to  him, 

235.  "in  fright";  into  a  panic —C.  H.  H. 
64 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


As  men  in  rage  strike  those  that  wish  them  best, 
Yet  surely  Cassio,  I  believe,  received 
From  him  that  fled  some  strange  indignity, 
Which  patience  could  not  pass. 
Oth.  I  know,  Iago, 

Thy  honesty  and  love  doth  mince  this  matter,  250 
Making  it  light  to  Cassio.  Cassio,  I  love  thee ; 
But  never  more  be  officer  of  mine. 

Re-enter  Desdemona,  attended. 

Look,  if  my  gentle  love  be  not  raised  up ! 

I  '11  make  thee  an  example. 
Des.  What 's  the  matter? 

Oth.  All 's  well  now,  sweeting ;  come  away  to  bed. 

Sir,  for  your  hurts,  myself  will  be  your  surgeon : 
[To  Montana,  who  is  led  off. 

Lead  him  off. 

Iago,  look  with  care  about  the  town, 
And  silence  those  whom  this  vile  brawl  dis- 
tracted. 

Come,  Desdemona:  'tis  the  soldiers'  life  260 
To  have  their  balmy  slumbers  waked  with  strife. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Iago  and  Cassio. 

Iago.  What,  are  you  hurt,  lieutenant? 

Cas.  Aye,  past  all  surgery. 

Iago.  Marry,  heaven  forbid! 

Cas.  Reputation,  reputation,  reputation!  O,  I 
have  lost  my  reputation !  I  have  lost  the  im- 
mortal part  of  myself,  and  what  remains  is 
bestial.  My  reputation,  Iago,  my  reputa- 
tion! 

Iago.  As  I  am  an  honest  man,  I  thought  you  270 

XXV-5  65 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


had  received  some  bodily  wound;  there  is 
more  sense  in  that  than  in  reputation.  Rep- 
utation is  an  idle  and  most  false  imposition; 
oft  got  without  merit  and  lost  without  de- 
serving: you  have  lost  no  reputation  at  all, 
unless  you  repute  yourself  such  a  loser. 
What,  man!  there  are  ways  to  recover  the 
general  again:  you  are  but  now  cast  in  his 
mood,  a  punishment  more  in  policy  than  in 
malice ;  even  so  as  one  would  beat  his  off  ense-  280 
less  dog  to  affright  an  imperious  lion:  sue 
to  him  again,  and  he 's  yours. 

Cas.  I  will  rather  sue  to  be  despised  than  to  de- 
ceive so  good  a  commander  with  so  slight, 
so  drunken,  and  so  indiscreet  an  officer. 
Drunk?  and  speak  parrot?  and  squabble? 
swagger?  swear?  and  discourse  fustian  with 
one's  own  shadow?    O  thou  invisible  spirit 

p  of  wine,  if  thou  hast  no  name  to  be  known 
by,  let  us  call  thee  devil!  290 

Iago.  What  was  he  that  you  followed  with  your 
sword?    What  had  he  done  to  you? 

Cas.  I  know  not. 

Iago.  Is 't  possible? 

Cas.  I  remember  a  mass  of  things,  but  nothing 
distinctly;  a  quarrel,  but  nothing  wherefore. 
O  God,  that  men  should  put  an  enemy  in 
their  mouths  to  steal  away  their  brains !  that 
we  should,  with  joy,  pleasance,  revel  and  ap- 
plause, transform  ourselves  into  beasts!  300 

Iago.  Why,  but  you  are  now  well  enough:  how 
came  you  thus  recovered? 

66 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


Cas.  It  hath  pleased  the  devil  drunkenness  to 
give  place  to  the  devil  wrath:  one  unperfect- 
ness  shows  me  another,  to  make  me  frankly 

\   despise  myself. 

Iago.  Come,  you  are  too  severe  a  moraler:  as 
the  time,  the  place,  and  the  condition  of  this 
country  stands,  I  could  heartily  wish  this 
had  not  befallen ;  but  since  it  is  as  it  is,  mend  310 
it  for  your  own  good. 

Cas.  I  Will  ask  him  for  my  place  again;  he 
shall  tell  me  I  am  a  drunkard!  Had  I  is 
many  mouths  as  Hydra,  such  an  answer 
would  stop  them  all.  To  be  now  a  sensible 
man,  by  and  by  a  fool,  and  presently  a  beast ! 
O  strange !  Every  inordinate  cup  is  unblest, 
and  the  ingredient  is  a  devil. 

Iago.  Come,  come,  good  wine  is  a  good  familiar 
creature,  if  it  be  well  used :  exclaim  no  more  320 
against  it.    And,  good  lieutenant,  I  think 
you  think  I  love  you. 

Cas.  I  have  well  approved  it,  sir.    I  drunk ! 

Iago.  You  or  any  man  living  may  be  drunk  at 
some  time,  man.  I  '11  tell  you  what  you 
shall  do.  Our  general's  wife  is  now  the  gen- 
eral. I  may  say  so  in  this  respect,  for  that 
he  hath  devoted  and  given  up  himself  to  the 
contemplation,  mark  and  denotement  of  her 
parts  and  graces:  confess  yourself  freely  to  330 
her;  importune  her  help  to  put  you  in  your 

317.  "approved";  found  by  experience. — C.  H.  H. 
325.  "some  time";  so  Qq.;  Ff.,  "a  time";  Grant  White,  "one  time.3* 
— L  G. 


67 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


place  again;  she  is  of  so  free,  so  kind,  so  apt, 
so  blessed  a  disposition,  she  holds  it  a  vice  in 
her  goodness  not  to  do  more  than  she  is  re- 
quested: this  broken  joint  between  you  and 
her  husband  entreat  her  to  splinter ;  and,  my 
fortunes  against  any  lay  worth  naming,  this 
crack  of  your  love  shall  grow  stronger  than 
it  was  before. 

Cas.  You  advise  me  well.  340 

Iago.  I  protest,  in  the  sincerity  of  love  and  hon- 
est kindness. 

Cas.  I  think  it  freely;  and  betimes  in  the  morn- 
ing I  will  beseech  the  virtuous  Desdemona  to 
undertake  for  me:  I  am  desperate  of  my 
fortunes  if  they  check  me  here. 

Iago.  You  are  in  the  right.    Good  night,  lieuten- 
ant; 

I  must  to  the  watch. 

Cas.  Good  night,  honest  Iago.  [Exit. 

Iago.  And  what 's  he  then  that  says  I  play  the  vil- 
lain? ^  350 
When  this  advice  is  free  I  give  and  honest, 
Probal  to  thinking,  and  indeed  the  course 
To  win  the  Moor  again  ?    For  'tis  most  easy 
The  inclining  Desdemona  to  subdue 
In  any  honest  suit.    She 's  framed  as  fruitful 
As  the  free  elements.    And  then  for  her 
To  win  the  Moor,  were 't  to  renounce  his  bap- 
tism, 

All  seals  and  symbols  of  redeemed  sin, 
:j  His  soul  is  so  enfetter'd  to  her  love,  359 

337.  "lay";  wager.— C.  H.  H. 

68 


THE  MOOR 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


That  she  may  make,  unmake,  do  what  she  list, 
Even  as  her  appetite  shall  play  the  god 
With  his  weak  function.    How  am  I  then  a  b> 
villain 

To  counsel  Cassio  to  this  parallel  course, 
Directly  to  his  good?    Divinity  of  hell! 
When  devils  will  the  blackest  sins  put  on, 
They  do  suggest  at  first  with  heavenly  shows, 
As  I  do  now:  for  whiles  this  honest  fool 
Plies  Desdemona  to  repair  his  fortunes, 
And  she  for  him  pleads  strongly  to  the  Moor, 
I  '11  pour  this  pestilence  into  his  ear,  370 
That  she  repeals  him  for  her  body's  lust;\ 
And  by  how  much  she  strives  to  do  him  goody 
She  shall  undo  her  credit  with  the  Moor. 
Sojyill  I  turn  her  virtue  into  pitch : 
And  out  of  her  own  goodness  make  the  net 
That  shall  enmesh  them  all. 

Enter  Rodcrigo. 

How  now,  Roderigo! 
Rod.  I  do  follow  here  in  the  chase,  not  like  a 
hound  that  hunts,  but  one  that  fills  up  the 
cry.  My  money  is  almost  spent;  I  have 
been  to-night  exceeding^  well  cudgeled;  380 
and  I  think  the  issue  will  be,  I  shall  have  so 
much  experience  for  my  pains;  and  so,  with 

363.  "Parallel  course"  for  course  level  or  even  with  his  design. — 
H.  N.  H. 

365.  "when  devils  will";  that  is,  when  devils  will  instigate  to  their 
blackest  sins,  they  tempt,  &c.  We  have  repeatedly  met  with  the  same 
use  of  put  on  for  instigate,  and  of  suggest  for  tempt. — H.  N.  H. 


\ 


69 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


no  money  at  all  and  a  little  more  wit,  return 
' '  again  to  Venice. 
lago.  How  poor  are  they  that  have  not  patience ! 
What  wound  did  ever  heal  but  by  degrees? 
Thou  know'st  we  work  by  wit  and  not  by  witch- 
craft, 

And  wit  depends  on  dilatory  time. 
Does 't  not  go  well  ?    Cassio  hath  beaten  thee, 
And  thou  by  that  small  hurt  hast  cashier'd 
Cassio:  390 
Though  other  things  grow  fair  against  the  sun, 
Yet  fruits  that  blossom  first  will  first  be  ripe: 
Content  thyself  awhile.    By  the  mass,  'tis  morn- 
ing; 

Pleasure  and  action  make  the  hours  seem  short. 
Retire  thee;  go  where  thou  art  billeted: 
Away,  I  say;  thou  shalt  know  more  hereafter: 
Nay,  get  thee  gone.    [Exit  Rod.]    Two  things 
are  to  be  done: 

t<My  wife  must  move  for  Cassio  to  her  mistress; 
I  '11  set  her  on ; 

■  Myself  the  while  to  draw  the  Moor  apart,  400 
And  bring  him  jump  when  he  may  Cassio  find 
Soliciting  his  wife:  aye,  that 's  the  way; 
Dull  not  device  by  coldness  and  delay.  [Exit. 

392.  "fruits  that  blossom  first";  the  "blossoming"  of  things,  to 
which  lago  alludes,  is  the  removal  of  Cassio.  As  their  plan  had 
already  blossomed,  so  there  was  good  hope  that  the  fruits  of  it  would 
soon  be  ripe. — The  folio  substitutes  In  troth  for  By  th'  mass. — 
H.  N.  H. 


70 


+ 

THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc. 


ACT  THIRD 

Scene  I 

Before  the  castle. 

Enter  Cassio  and  some  Musicians. 

Cas.  Masters,  play  here ;  I  will  content  your  pains ; 
Something  that 's  brief;  and  bid  'Good  morrow, 
general.'  [Music. 

Enter  Clown. 

Clo.  Why,  masters,  have  your  instruments  been 
in  Naples,  that  they  speak  i'  the  nose  thus? 

First  Mus.  How,  sir,  how? 

Clo.  Are  these,  I  pray  you,  wind-instruments? 

First  Mus.  Aye,  marry,  are  they,  sir. 

Clo.  O,  thereby  hangs  a  tail. 

First  Mus.  Whereby  hangs  a  tale,  sir? 

Clo.  Marry,  sir,  by  many  a  wind-instrument  1G 
that  I  know.    But  masters,  here 's  money 
for  you :  and  the  general  so  likes  your  music, 
that  he  desires  you,  for  love's  sake,  to  make 
no  more  noise  with  it. 

2.  "Good  morrow,  general" ;  it  was  usual  for  friends  to  serenade  a 
new-married  couple  on  the  morning  after  the  celebration  of  the  mar- 
riage, or  to  greet  them  with  a  morning  song  to  bid  them  good  mor- 
row.— H.  N.  H. 

13.  "for  love's  sake";  Q.  1,  "of  all  loues" — I.  G. 
4F  71 


Act  III.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


First  Mus.  Well,  sir,  we  will  not. 

Clo.  If  you  have  any  music  that  may  not  be 

heard,  to 't  again :  but,  as  they  say,  to  hear 

music  the  general  does  not  greatly  care. 
First  Mus.  We  have  none  such,  sir. 
Clo.  Then  put  up  your  pipes  in  your  bag,  for  20 

I  '11  away :  go ;  vanish  into  air ;  away ! 

[Exeunt  Musicians. 
Cas.  Dost  thou  hear,  my  honest  friend? 
Clo.  No,  I  hear  not  your  honest  friend;  I  hear 

you. 

Cas.  Prithee,  keep  up  thy  quillets.  There 's  a 
poor  piece  of  gold  for  thee:  if  the  gentle- 
woman that  attends  the  general's  wife  be 
stirring,  tell  her  there 's  one  Cassio  entreats 
her  a  little  favor  of  speech:  wilt  thou  do  this? 

Clo.  She  is  stirring,  sir:  if  she  will  stir  hither,  30 
I  shall  seem  to  notify  unto  her. 

Cas.  Do,  good  my  friend.  [Eaoit  Clown. 

Enter  lago. 

In  happy  time,  lago. 
lago.  You  have  not  been  a-bed,  then? 
Cas.  Why,  no ;  the  day  had  broke 

Before  we  parted.    I  have  made  bold,  lago, 
To  send  in  to  your  wife:  my  suit  to  her 
Is,  that  she  will  to  virtuous  Desdemona 
Procure  me  some  access. 
lago.  I  '11  send  her  to  you  presently : 

And  I  '11  devise  a  mean  to  draw  the  Moor  . 
Out  of  the  way,  that  your  converse  and  busi- 
ness 40 
72 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  i. 


May  be  more  free. 
Cas.  I  humbly  thank  you  for 't.    [Exit  I  ago.] 
I  never  knew 
A  Florentine  more  kind  and  honest. 

Enter  Emilia. 

Emil.  Good  morrow,  good  lieutenant:  I  am  sorry 
For  your  displeasure;  but  all  will  sure  be  well. 
The  general  and  his  wife  are  talking  of  it, 
And  she  speaks  for  you  stoutly:  the  Moor  re- 
plies, 

That  he  you  hurt  is  of  great  fame  in  Cyprus 
And  great  affinity,  and  that  in  wholesome  wis- 
dom 

He  might  not  but  refuse  you;  but  he  protests 
he  loves  you,  50 

And  needs  no  other  suitor  but  his  likings 

To  take  the  safest  occasion  by  the  front 

To  bring  you  in  again. 
Cas.  Yet,  I  beseech  you, 

If  you  think  fit,  or  that  it  may  be  done, 

Give  me  advantage  of  some  brief  discourse 

With  Desdemona  alone. 
Emil.  Pray  you,  come  in : 

I  will  bestow  you  where  you  shall  have  time 

To  speak  your  bosom  freely. 
Cas.  I  am  much  bound  to  you. 

[Exeunt. 

43.  "Florentine,"  i.  e.  "even  a  Florentine";  Iago  was  a  Venetian. 
—I.  G. 

45.  "for  your  displeasure" ;  that  is,  the  displeasure  you  have  in- 
curred from  Othello.— H.  N.  H. 
52.  Omitted  in  Ff.— I.  G. 

73 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Scene  II 

A  room  in  the  castle. 
Enter  Othello,  Iago,  and  Gentlemen. 

Oth.  These  letters  give,  Iago,  to  the  pilot; 
And  by  him  do  my  duties  to  the  senate : 
That  done,  I  will  be  walking  on  the  works ; 
Repair  there  to  me. 

Iago.  Well,  my  good  lord,  I  '11  do 't. 

Oth.  This  fortification,  gentlemen,  shall  we  see  't? 

Gent.  We  '11  wait  upon  your  lordship.  [Exeunt. 


Scene  III 

The  garden  of  the  castle. 

Enter  Desdemona,  Cassio,  and  Emilia. 

JDes.  Be  thou  assured,  good  Cassio,  I  will  do 

All  my  abilities  in  thy  behalf. 
Emil.  Good  madam,  do:  I  warrant  it  grieves  my 
husband 
As  if  the  case  were  his. 
Des.  O,  that 's  an  honest  fellow.    Do  not  doubt, 
Cassio, 

But  I  will  have  my  lord  and  you  again 
As  friendly  as  you  were. 
Cas.  Bounteous  madam, 

Whatever  shall  become  of  Michael  Cassio, 
He 's  never  any  thing  but  your  true  servant. 

74 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


Des.  I  know 't :  I  thank  you.    You  do  love  my 
lord:  <0 
You  have  known  him  long;  and  be  you  well 
assured 

He  shall  in  strangeness  stand  no  farther  off 
Than  in  a  politic  distance. 

Cos.  Aye,  but,  lady, 

That  policy  may  either  last  so  long, 
Or  feed  upon  such  nice  and  waterish  diet, 
Or  breed  itself  so  out  of  circumstance, 
That,  I  being  absent  and  my  place  supplied, 
My  general  will  forget  my  love  and  service. 

Des.  Do  not  doubt  that;  before  Emilia  hem 

I  give  thee  warrant  of  thy  place :  assure  tnee,  20 
If  I  do  vow  a  friendship,  I  '11  perform  it 
To  the  last  article :  my  lord  shall  never  rest ; 
I  '11  watch  him  tame  and  talk  him  out  of  pa- 
tience ; 

His  bed  shall  seem  a  school,  his  board  a  shrift; 

I  '11  intermingle  every  thing  he  does 

With  Cassio's  suit;  therefore  be  merry,  Cassio; 

For  thy  solicitor  shall  rather  die 

Than  give  thy  cause  away. 

Enter  Othello  and  Iago,  at  a  distance. 

Emit.  Madam,  here  comes  my  lord. 

Cos.  Madam,  I  '11  take  my  leave.  30 

14.  "last  so  long" ;  he  may  either  of  himself  think  it  politic  to  keep 
me  out  of  office  so  long,  or  he  may  be  satisfied  with  such  slight  rea- 
sons, or  so  many  accidents  may  make  him  think  my  readmission  at 
that  time  improper,  that  I  mav  be  quite  forgotten  (Johnson). — 
H.  N.  H. 

23.  "watch  him  tame,"  i.  e.  tame  him  by  keeping  him  from  sleep 
(as  was  done  with  hawks). — T.  G. 

75 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Des.  Nay,  stay  and  hear  me  speak. 

Cas.  Madam,  not  now :  I  am  very  ill  at  ease, 

Unfit  for  mine  own  purposes. 
Des,  Well,  do  your  discretion.  [Exit  Cassio. 

Iago.  Ha !  I  like  not  that. 

Oth.  What  dost  thou  say? 

Iago.  Nothing,  my  lord:  or  if — I  know  not  what. 
Oth.  Was  not  that  Cassio  parted  from  my  wife? 
Iago.  Cassio,  my  lord!    No,  sure,  I  cannot  think 
it, 

That  he  would  steal  away  so  guilty-like, 

Seeing  you  coming. 
Oth.  I  do  believe  'twas  he.  40 

Des.  How  now,  my  lord ! 

I  have  been  talking  with  a  suitor  here. 

A  man  that  languishes  in  your  displeasure. 
Oth.  Who  is 't  you  mean? 

Des.  Why,  your  lieutenant,   Cassio.    Good  my 
lord, 

If  I  have  any  grace  or  power  to  move  you. 
His  present  reconciliation  take; 
For  if  he  be  not  one  that  truly  loves  you, 
That  errs  in  ignorance  and  not  in  cunning, 
I  have  no  judgment  in  an  honest  face:  50 
I  prithee,  call  him  back. 

Oth.  Went  he  hence  now  ? 

Des.  Aye,  sooth ;  so  humbled, 

That  he  hath  left  part  of  his  grief  with  me, 
To  suffer  with  him.    Good  love,  call  him  back. 

Oth.  Not  now,  sweet  Desdemona ;  some  other  time. 

Des.  But  shall 't  be  shortly  ? 

Oth.  The  sooner,  sweet,  for  you. 

76 


THE  MOOR  Act  in.  Sc.  iii. 

\ 


Des.  Shall 't  be  to-night  at  supper?  f 


Oth.  No,  not  to-night 

Des.  To-morrow  dinner  then? 
Oth.  I  shall  not  dine  at  home; 

I  meet  the  captains  at  the  citadel. 
Des.  Why  then  to-morrow  night;  or  Tuesday 
morn ;  60 
On  Tuesday  noon,  or  night;  on  Wednesday 
morn: 

I  prithee,  name  the  time ;  but  let  it  not 
Exceed  three  days:  in  faith,  he's  penitent; 
And  yet  his  trespass,  in  our  common  reason — 
Save  that,  they  say,  the  wars  must  make  ex- 
amples 

Out  of  their  best — is  not  almost  a  fault 
To  incur  a  private  check.    When  shall  he  come? 
Tell  me,  Othello :  I  wonder  in  my  soul, 
What  you  would  ask  me,  that  I  should  deny, 
Or  stand  so  mammering  on.    What!  Michael 

Cassio,  70 
That  came  a-wooing  with  you,  and  so  many  a 

time 

When  I  have  spoke  of  you  dispraisingly 
Hath  ta'en  your  part;  to  have  so  much  to  do 
To  bring  him  in !    Trust  me,  I  could  do  much — 

Oth.  Prithee,  no  more :  let  him  come  when  he  will ; 
I  will  deny  thee  nothing. 

Des.  Why,  this  is  not  a  boon; 

'Tis  as  I  should  entreat  you  wear  your  gloves, 
Or  feed  on  nourishing  dishes,  or  keep  you  warm, 
Or  sue  to  you  to  do  a  peculiar  profit 
To  your  own  person :  nay,  when  I  have  a  suit  8® 

77 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Wherein  I  mean  to  touch  your  love  indeed, 

It  shall  be  full  of  poise  and  difficult  weight, 

And  fearful  to  be  granted. 
Oth.  I  will  deny  thee  nothing : 

Whereon,  I  do  beseech  thee,  grant  me  this, 

To  leave  me  but  a  little  to  myself. 
Des.  Shall  I  deny  you  ?  no :  farewell,  my  lord. 
Oth.  Farewell,  my  Desdemona :  I  '11  come  to  thee 
straight. 

Des.  Emilia,  come.    Be  as  your  fancies  teach  you; 

Whate'er  you  be,  I  am  obedient. 

[Exeunt  Desdemona  and  Emilia. 
Oth.  Excellent  wretch!    Perdition  catch  my  soul, 

But  I  do  love  thee !  and  when  I  love  thee  not,  91 

Chaos  is  come  again. 
lago.  My  noble  lord, — 

Oth.  What  dost  thou  say,  lago? 

lago.  Did  Michael  Cassio,  when  you  woo'd  my 
lady, 

Know  of  your  love  ? 
Oth.  He  did,  from  first  to  last:  why  dost  thou  ask? 
lago.  But  for  a  satisfaction  of  my  thought; 

No  further  harm. 
Oth.  Why  of  thy  thought,  lago  ? 

92.  "Chaos  is  come  again";  the  meaning  is,  "Ere  I  cease  to  love 
thee,  the  world  itself  shall  be  reduced  to  its  primitive  chaos." — But 
is  used  in  its  exceptive  sense,  be  out,  but  that,  or,  "if  I  do  not  love 
thee."— H.  N.  H. 

96.  "why  dost  thou  ask?";  in  Act  i.  sc.  2,  when  lago,  speaking  of 
the  Moor  to  Cassio,  says,  "He's  married,"  Cassio  asks,  "To  whom?" 
Yet  here  he  seems  to  have  known  all  about  it.  Of  course  the  explana- 
tion is,  that  Cassio  there  feigned  ignorance,  in  order  to  keep  his 
friend's  secret  till  it  should  be  publicly  known. — H.  N.  H. 


78 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


lago.  I  did  not  think  he  had  been  acquainted  with 
her. 

Oth.  O,  yes,  and  went  between  us  very  oft.  100 
lago.  Indeed! 

Oth.  Indeed!  aye,  indeed:  discern'st  thou  aught  in 
that? 
Is  he  not  honest? 
lago.  Honest,  my  lord! 
Oth.  Honest!  aye,  honest. 
lago.  My  lord,  for  aught  I  know. 
Oth.  What  dost  thou  think? 
lago.  Think,  my  lord ! 

Oth.  Think,  my  lord !    By  heaven,  he  echoes  me, 
As  if  there  were  some  monster  in  his  thought 
Too  hideous  to  be  shown.    Thou  dost  mean 
something : 

I  heard  thee  say  even  now,  thou  likedst  not  that, 
When  Cassio  left  my  wife :  what  didst  not  like  ? 
And  when  I  told  thee  he  was  of  my  counsel  HI 
In  my  whole  course  of  wooing,  thou  criedst 
'Indeed!' 

And  didst  contract  and  purse  thy  brow  together, 
As  if  thou  then  hadst  shut  up  in  thy  brain 
Some  horrible  conceit:  if  thou  dost  love  me, 
Show  me  thy  thought. 

lago.  My  lord,  you  know  I  love  you. 

Oth.  I  think  thou  dost; 

And  for  I  know  thou  'rt  full  of  love  and  hon- 
esty 

106.  "By  heaven,  he  echoes  me"  ;  Q.  1,  "By  heauen  he  ecchoes  me"; 
Ff.,  "Alas,  thou  ecchos't  me";  Qq.  2,  3,  "why  dost  thou  ecchoe  me." 
—I.  G. 


79 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


And  weight'st  thy  words  before  thou  givest 
them  breath, 

Therefore  these  stops  of  thine  fright  me  the 
more :  120 

For  such  things  in  a  false  disloyal  knave 

Are  tricks  of  custom;  but  in  a  man  that 's  just 

They  're  close  Relations,  working  from  the  heart, 

That  passion  cannot  rule. 
Iago.  For  Michael  Cassio, 

I  dare  be  sworn  I  think  that  he  is  honest. 
Oth.  I  think  so  too. 

Iago.  Men  should  be  what  they  seem; 

Or  those  that  be  not,  would  they  might  seem 
none ! 

Oth.  Certain,  men  should  be  what  they  seem. 

Iago.  Why  then  I  think  Cassio 's  an  honest  man. 

Oth.  Nay,  yet  there 's  more  in  this :  130 
I  prithee,  speak  to  me  as  to  thy  thinkings, 
As  thou  dost  ruminate,  and  give  thy  worst  of 

thoughts 
The  worst  of  words. 

Iago.  Good  my  lord,  pardon  me : 

Though  I  am  bound  to  every  act  of  duty, 
I  am  not  bound  to  that  all  slaves  are  free  to. 
Utter  my  thoughts?    Why,  say  they  are  vile 
and  false ; 

As  where 's  that  palace  whereinto  foul  things 
Sometimes  intrude  not?  who  has  a  breast  so 
pure, 

132.  "thy  worst  of  thoughts";  so  Ff.,  Q.  2;  Q.  1,  reads  "the  worst 
of  thoughts";  Q.  3,  "thy  thoughts";  perhaps  we  should  read: — 

"As  thou  dost  rum'nate,  give  thy  worst  of  thoughts." — I.  G. 

80* 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


But  some  uncleanly  apprehensions 
Keep  leets  and  law-days,  and  in  session  sit  140 
With  meditations  lawful? 
Oth.  Thou  dost  conspire  against  thy  friend,  Iago, 
If  thou  but  think'st  him  wrong'd  and  makest  his 
ear 

A  stranger  to  thy  thoughts. 
Iago.  I  do  beseech  you — 

Though  I  perchance  am  vicious  in  my  guess, 
As,  I  confess,  it  is  my  nature's  plague 
To  spy  into  abuses,  and  oft  my  jealousy 
Shapes  faults  that  are  not — that  your  wisdom 

yet, 

From  one  that  so  imperfectly  conceits, 
Would  take  no  notice,  nor  build  yourself  a 
trouble  150 
Out  of  his  scattering  and  unsure  observance. 
It  were  not  for  your  quiet  nor  your  good, 
Nor  for  my  manhood,  honesty,  or  wisdom, 
To  let  you  know  my  thoughts. 

Oth.  What  dost  thou  mean? 

Iago.  Good  name  in  man  and  woman,  dear  my 
lord, 

Is  the  immediate  jewel  of  their  souls: 

146.  "my  nature's  'plague";  it  has  been  proposed  to  read  "of  my 
jealousy,"  and  change  shapes  into  shape.  At  first  sight,  this  is 
plausible,  as  it  satisfies  the  grammar  perfectly.  But  jealousy  is 
itself,  evidently,  the  "nature's  plague"  of  which  Iago  is  speaking. 
So  that  the  sense  would  be, — "It  is  my  nature's  plague  to  spy  into 
abuses,  and  of  my  nature's  plague  to  shape  faults  that  are  not"; 
which  comes  pretty  near  being  nonsense.  On  the  other  hand,  if  we 
read, — "It  is  my  nature's  plague  to  spy  into  abuses,  and  oft  my 
nature's  plague  shapes  faults  that  are  not," — the  language  is  indeed 
not  good,  but  the  sense  is  perfect. — -H.  N.  H. 

156.  "the  immediate  jewel  of  their  souls";  their  most  intimate  pos- 
session after  life  itself. — C.  H.  H. 
XXV— 6  83 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Who  steals  my  purse  steals  trash ;  'tis  something, 
nothing ; 

'Twas  mine,  'tis  his,  and  has  been  slave  to  thou- 
sands ; 

But  he  that  filches  from  me  mv  good  name 

Robs  me  of  that  which  not  enriches  him  160 

And  makes  me  poor  indeed. 
Oih.  By  heaven,  I  '11  know  thy  thoughts. 
lago.  You  cannot,  if  my  heart  were  in  your  hand; 

Nor  shall  not,  whilst  'tis  in  my  custody. 
Oih.  Ha! 

lago.         O,  beware,  my  lord,  of  jealousy; 

It  is  the  green-eyed  monster,  which  doth  mock 
The  meat  it  feeds  on:  that  cuckold  lives  in  bliss 
Who,  certain  of  his  fate,  loves  not  his  wronger; 
But,  O,  what  damned  minutes  tells  he  o'er 
Who  dotes,  yet  doubts,  suspects,  yet  strongly 
loves!  170 

Oih.  O  misery! 

lago.  Poor  and  content  is  rich,  and  rich  enough; 
But  riches  fineless  is  as  poor  as  winter 
To  him  that  ever  fears  he  shall  be  poor : 
Good  heaven,  the  souls  of  all  my  tribe  defend 
From  jealousy! 

Oth.  Why,  why  is  this ! 

Think'st  thou  I  'Id  make  a  life  of  jealousy, 

To  follow  still  the  changes  of  the  moon 

With  fresh  suspicions?    No;  to  be  once  in  doubt 

166.  "mock",  i.  e.  makes  its  sport  with  its  prey  (like  a  cat),  tor- 
turing him  with  "damned  minutes"  of  doubt,  instead  of  making  him 
"certain  of  his  fate"  at  once.    Hanmer  read  "make." — C.  H.  H. 

168.  "his  wronger";  i.  e.  the  wife.— C.  H.  H. 

170.  "strongly";  so  Qq.;  Ff.,  "soundly";  Knight,  "fondly."— I.  G. 

82 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


Is  once  to  be  resolved:  exchange  me  for  a  goat, 
When  I  shall  turn  the  business  of  my  soul  181 
To  such  exsufflicate  and  blown  surmises, 
Matching  thy  inference.    "Tis  not  to  make  me 
jealous 

To  say  my  wife  is  fair,  feeds  well,  loves  com- 
pany, 

Is  free  of  speech,  sings,  plays  and  dances  well; 
Where  virtue  is,  these  are  more  virtuous : 
Nor  from  mine  own  weak  merits  will  I  draw 
The  smallest  fear  or  doubt  of  her  revolt; 
For  she  had  eyes,  and  chose  me.    JNp,  Iago, 
I^U  see  before  I  doubt;  when  I  doubt,  prove; 
And  on  the  proof,  there  is  no  more  but  this,  191 
Away  at  once  with  love  or  jealousy! 
Iago.  I  am  glad  of  it;  for  now  I  shall  have  reason 
To  show  the  love  and  duty  that  I  bear  you 
With  franker  spirit:  therefore,  as  I  am  bound, 
Receive  it  from  me.    I  speak  not  yet  of  proof. 
Look  to  your  wife:  observe  her  well  with  Cassio; 
Wear  your  eye  thus,  not  jealous  nor  secure: 
I  would  not  have  your  free  and  noble  nature 
Out  of  self  -bounty  be  abused ;  look  to 't :  200 
I  know  our  country  disposition  well ; 
In  Venice  they  do  let  heaven  see  the  pranks 
Thev  dare  not  show  their  husbands;  their ^best 
conscience 

Is  not  to  leave 't  undone,  but  keep 't  unknown. 

204.  "but  keep't  unknown";  this  and  the  following  argument  of 
Iago  ought  to  be  deeply  impressed  on  every  reader.  Deceit  and 
falsehood,  whatever  conveniences  they  may  for  a  time  promise  or 
produce,  are  in  the  sum  of  life  obstacles  to  happiness.  Those  who 
profit  by  the  cheat,  distrust  the  deceiver,  and  the  act  by  which  kind- 

83 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Oth.  Dost  thou  say  so? 

Iago.  She  did  deceive  her  father,  marrying  you; 
And  when  she  seem'd  to  shake  and^fear  your 

looks, 
She  loved  them  most. 
Oth.  And  so  she  did. 

Iago.  Why,  go  to  then; 

She  that  so  young  could  give  out  such  a  seem- 
ing, 

To  seel  her  father's  eyes  up  close  as  oak —  210 
He  thought  'twas  witchcraft — but  I  am  much 
to  blame; 

I  humbly  do  beseech  you  of  your  pardon 

For  too  much  loving  you. 
Oth.  I  am  bound  to  thee  for  ever. 

Iago.  I  see  this  hath  a  little  dash'd  your  spirits. 
Oth.  Not  a  jot,  not  a  jot. 

Iago.  I'  faith,  I  fear  it  has 

I  hope  you  will  consider  what  is  spoke 
Comes  from  my  love;  but  I  do  see  you're 
moved : 

I  am  to  pray  you  not  to  strain  my  speech 
To  grosser  issues  nor  to  larger  reach 
Than  to  suspicion.  220 
Oth.  I  will  not. 

ness  is  sought  puts  an  end  to  confidence. — The  same  objection  may- 
be made  with  a  lower  degree  of  strength  against  the  imprudent 
generosity  of  disproportionate  marriages.  When  the  first  heat  of 
passion  is  over,  it  is  easily  succeeded  by  suspicion,  that  the  same  vio- 
lence of  inclination,  which  caused  one  irregularity,  may  stimulate 
to  another;  and  those  who  have  shown  that  their  passions  are  too 
powerful  for  their  prudence,  will,  with  very  slight  appearances  against 
them,  be  censured,  as  not  very  likely  to  restrain  them  by  their  virtue 
(Johnson).— H.  N.  H. 


84 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


lago.  Should  you  do  so,  my  lord, 

My  speech  should  fall  into  such  vile  success 
As  my  thoughts  ^im  not  at.    Cassio 's  my 

worthy  friend— 
My  lord,  I  see  you  're  moved. 
Oth.  No,  not  much  moved : 

I  do  not  think  but  Desdemona's  honest. 
Iago.  Long  live  she  so!  and  long  live  you  to  think 
so! 

Oth.  And  yet,  how  nature  erring  from  itself — 
lago.  Aye,  there 's  the  point :  as — to  be  bold  with 
you— 

Not  to  aff  ect  many  proposed  matches 
Of  her  own  clime,  complexion  and  degree,  230 
Whereto  we  see  in  all  things  nature  tends — 
Foh!  one  may  smell  in  such  a  will  most  rank, 
Foul  disproportion,  thoughts  unnatural. 
But  pardon  me;  I  do  not  in  position 
Distinctly  speak  of  her;  though  I  may  fear 
Her  will,  recoiling  to  her  better  judgment, 
May  fall  to  match  you  with  her  country  forms. 
And  happily  repent. 

Oth.  Farewell,  farewell: 

If  more  thou  dost  perceive,  let  me  know  more; 
Set  on  thy  wife  to  observe:  leave  me,  lago.  240 

lago.  [Going']  My  lord,  I  take  my  leave. 

Oth.  Why  did  I  marry?    This  honest  creature 
doubtless 

Sees  and  knows  more,  much  more,  than  he  un- 
folds. 

236.  "recoiling  to";  slipping  from  the  control  of.— C.  H.  H. 
238.  "happily" ;  haply.— C.  H.  H. 

85 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


lago.  [Returning]  My  lord,  I  would  I  might  en- 
treat your  honor 
To  scan  this  thing  no  further ;  leave  it  to  time : 
Though  it  be  fit  that  Cassio  have  his  place, 
'For  sure  he  fills  it  up  with  great  ability, 
Yet,  if  you  please  to  hold  him  off  awhile, 
You  shall  by  that  perceive  him  and  his  means: 
Note  if  your  lady  strain  his  entertainment  250 
With  any  strong  or  vehement  importunity ; 
Much  will  be  seen  in  that.    In  the  mean  time, 
Let  me  be  thought  too  busy  in  my  fears — 
As  worthy  cause  I  have  to  fear  I  am — 
And  hold  her  free,  I  do  beseech  your  honor. 

Oth.  Fear  not  my  government. 

lago.  I  once  more  take  my  leave.  [Exit. 

Oth.  This  fellow 's  of  exceeding  honesty, 

And  knows  all  qualities,  with  a  learned  spirit, 
Of  human  dealings.    If  I  do  prove  her  hag- 
gard, "  260 
Though  that  her  jesses  were  my  dear  heart- 
strings, 

I  'Id  whistle  her  off  and  let  her  down  the  wind 
To  prey  at  fortune.    Haply,  for  I  am  black 
And  have  not  those  soft  parts  of  conversation 
That  chamberers  have,  or  for  I  am  declined 
Into  the  vale  of  years, — yet  that 's  not  much — 

249.  "his  means" ;  you  shall  discover  whether  he  thinks  his  best 
means,  his  most  powerful  interest,  is  by  the  solicitation  of  your  lady. 
— H.  N.  H. 

250.  "strain  his  entertainment" j  that  is,  press  his  readmission  to  pay 
and  office.— H.  N.  H. 

259.  "learned  spirit";  the  construction  is,  "He  knows  with  a  learned 
spirit  all  qualities  of  human  dealings. — H.  N.  H. 

86 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


She 's  gone ;  I  am  abused,  and  my  relief 
Must  be  to  loathe  her.    O  curse  of  marriage, 
That  we  can  call  these  delicate  creatures  ours, 
And  not  their  appetites!    I  had  rather  be  a 

toad,  270 
And  live  upon  the  vapor  of  a  dungeon, 
Than  keep  a  corner  in  the  thing  I  love 
For  others'  uses.    Yet,  'tis  the  plague  of  great 

ones; 

Prerogatived  are  they  less  than  the  base ; 
'Tis  destiny  unshunnable,  like  death : 
Even  then  this  forked  plague  is  fated  to  us 
When  we  do  quicken.    Desdemona  comes; 

'Re-enter  Desdemona  and  Emilia. 

If  she  be  false,  O,  then  heaven  mpcks  itself! 

I  '11  not  believe 't. 
Des.  How  now,  my  dear  Othello! 

Your  dinner,  and  the  generous  islanders  280 

By  you  invited,  do  attend  your  presence. 
Oth.  I  am  to  blame. 

Des.  Why  do  you  speak  so  faintly? 

Are  you  not  well  ? 
Oth.  I  have  a  pain  upon  my  forehead  here.  1  '" :<  '  - 

276.  "forked  plague";  one  of  Sir  John  Harington's  Epigrams  will 
illustrate  this: 

"Actaeon  guiltless  unawares  espying 
Naked  Diana  bathing  in  her  bowre 
Was  plagued  with  hornes;  his  dogs  did  him  devoure; 
Wherefore  take  heed,  ye  that  are  curious,  prying, 
With  some  such  forked  plague  you  be  not  smitten, 
And  in  your  foreheads  see  your  faults  be  written." 

— H.  N.  H. 

277.  "Desdemona  comes";  so  Qq.;  Ff.  read  "Looke  where  she 
comes." — L  G. 

87 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Des.  Faith,  that 's  with  watching ;  'twill  away 
again : 

Let  me  but  bind  it  hard,  within  this  hour 
It  will  be  well. 
Oth.  Your  napkin  is  too  little; 

[He  puts  the  handkerchief  from  him;  and  she 
drops  it. 

Let  it  alone.    Come,  I  '11  go  in  with  you. 

Des.  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  are  not  well. 

[Exeunt  Othello  and  Desdemona. 

Emil.  I  am  glad  I  have  found  this  napkin:  290 
This  was  her  first  remembrance  from  the  Moor : 
My  wayward  husband  hath  a  hundred  times 
Woo'd  me  to_steal,it ;  but  she  so  loves  the  token, 
For  he  conjured  her  she  should  ever  keep  it, 
That  she  reserves  it  evermore  about  her 
To  kiss  and  talk  to.    I  '11  have  the  work  ta'en 
out, 

And  give 't  Iago :  what  he  will  do  with  it 

Heaven  knows,  not  I ; 

I  nothing  but  to  please  his  fantasy. 

292.  "a  hundred  times";  of  course  hundred  is  here  used  for  an  in- 
definite number;  still  it  shows  that  the  unity  of  time  is  much  less 
observed  in  this  play  than  some  have  supposed.  The  play  indeed 
seldom  gives  any  note  of  the  lapse  of  time,  save  by  inference,  as  in 
the  case  before  us.  Thus  far,  only  one  night,  since  that  of  the  mar- 
riage, has  been  expressly  accounted  for;  and  this  was  the  night  when 
the  nuptials  were  celebrated,  and  Cassio  cashiered;  though  several 
must  have  passed  during  the  sea-voyage.  From  Iago's  soliloquy  at 
the  close  of  Act  i.,  it  is  clear  he  had  his  plot  even  then  so  far 
matured,  that  he  might  often  woo  his  wife  to  steal  the  handkerchief 
while  at  sea.  Moreover,  we  may  well  enough  suppose  a  consider- 
able interval  of  time  between  the  first  and  third  scenes  of  the  pres- 
ent Act;  since  Cassio  may  not  have  had  the  interview  with  Desde- 
mona immediately  after  he  engaged  Emilia  to  solicit  it  for  him. — 
H.  N.  H. 

88 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


Re-enter  I  ago. 
lago.  How  now!  what  do  you  here  alone?  300 
Emit.  Do  not  you  chide ;  I  have  a  thing  for  you. 
Iago.  A  thing  for  me?  it  is  a  common  thing — 
Emil.  Ha! 

Iago.  To  have  a  foolish  wife. 

Emil.  O,  is  that  all?    What  will  you  give  me  now 

For  that  same  handkerchief? 
Iago.  What  handkerchief? 

Emil.  What  handkerchief ! 

Why,  that  the  Moor  first  gave  to  Desdemona; 

That  which  so  often  you  did  bid  me  steal. 
Iago.  Hast  stol'n  it  from  her?  310 
Emil  No^faith:  she  let  it  drop  by  negligence,—- 

And,  to  the  advantage,  I  being  here  took 't  up. 

Look,  here  it  is. 
Iago.  A  good  wench;  give  it  me. 

Emil.  What  will  you  do  with 't,  that  you  have  been 
so  earnest 

To  have  me  filch  it  ? 
Iago.      [Snatching  it]  Why,  what 's  that  to  you? 
Emil.  If 't  be  not  for  some  purpose  of  import, 

Give 't  me  again :  poor  lady,  she  '11  run  mad 

When  she  shall  lack  it. 
Iago.  Be  not  acknown  on 't;  I  have  use  for  it. 

Go,  leave  me.  [Exit  Emilia.  320 

I  will  in  Cassio's  lodging  lose  this  napkin, 

And  let  him  find  it.    Trifles  light  as  air 

Are  to  the  jealous  confirmations  strong 

As  proofs  of  holy  writ:  this  may  do  something. 

The  Moor  already  changes  with  my  poison: 

325;  383-390;  453-460;  iv.  8-10;  195-196.  Omitted  in  Q.  1.— I.  G. 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Dangerous  conceits  are  in  their  natures  poisons, 
Which  at  the  first  are  scarce  found  to  distaste, 
But  with  a  little  act  upon  the  blood 
Burn  like  the  mines  of  sulphur.    I  did  say  so : 
Look,  where  he  comes ! 

Re-enter  Othello. 

Not  poppy,  nor  mandragora,  33G 
Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world, 
Shall  ever  medicine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep 
Which  thou  owedst  yesterday. 
Oth.  Ha!  ha!  false  to  me? 

Iago.  Why,  how  now,  general!  no  more  of  that. 
Oth.  Avaunt!  be  gone!  thou  hast  set  me  on  the 
rack: 

I  swear  'tis  better  to  be  much  abused 
Than  but  to  know 't  a  little. 

Iago.  How  now,  my  lord! 

Oth.  What  sense  had  I  of  her  stol'n  hours  of  lust? 
I  saw  't  not,  thought  it  not,  it  harm'd  not  me : 
I  slept  the  next  night  well,  was  free  and  merry; 
I  found  not  Cassio's  kisses  on  her  lips:  341 
He  that  is  robb'd,  not  wanting  what  is  stol'n, 
Let  him  not  know 't  and  he 's  not  robb'd  at  all. 

Iago.  I  am  sorry  to  hear  this. 

Oth.  I  had  been  happy,  if  the  general  camp, 
Pioners  and  all,  had  tasted  her  sweet  body, 
So  I  had  nothing  known.    O,  now  for  ever 

330.  "Look  where  he  comes";  that  is,  I  knew  the  least  touch  of  such 
a  passion  would  not  permit  the  Moor  a  moment  of  repose: — I  have 
just  said  that  jealousy  is  a  restless  commotion  of  the  mind;  and 
look,  where  Othello  approaches,  to  confirm  my  observation  (Steev- 
ens).— H.  N.  H. 

90 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


Farewell  the  tranquil  mind!  farewell  content! 
Farewell  the  plumed  troop  and  the  big  wars 
That  make  ambition  virtue!    O,  farewell,  350 
Farewell  the  neighing  steed  and  the  shrill 
trump, 

The  spirit-stirring  drum,  the  ear-piercing  fife, 
The  royal  banner  and  all  quality, 
Pride,  pomp  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war! 
And,  O  you  mortal  engines,  whose  rude  throats 
The  immortal  Jove's  dread  clamors  counterfeit, 
Farewell !    Othello's  occupation 's  gone] 

Iago.  Is 't  possible,  my  lord? 

Oth.  Villain,  be  sure  thou  prove  my  love  a  whore; 
Be  sure  of  it;  give  me  the  ocular  proof ;  360 
Or,  by  the  worth  of  man's  eternal  soul, 
Thou  hadst  been  better  have  been  born  a  dog 
Than  answer  my  waked  wrath ! 

Iago.  Is 't  come  to  this? 

Oth.  Make  me  to  see 't ;  or  at  the  least  so  prove  it, 
That  the  probation  bear  no  hinge  nor  loop 
To  hang  a  doubt  on ;  or  woe  upon  thy  life ! 

Iago.  My  noble  lord, — 

Oth.  If  thou  dost  slander  her  and  torture  me, 
Never  pray  more ;  abandon  all  remorse ; 
On  horror's  head  horrors  accumulate;  370 

351.  "Farewell  the  neighing  steed";  there  is  some  resemblance  be- 
tween this  speech  and  the  following  lines  in  Peek's  "Farewell  to  the 
Famous  and  Fortunate  Generals  of  our  English  Forces"  1589: 

"Change  love  for  armes;  gyrt  to  your  blades,  my  boyes; 
Your  rests  and  muskets  take,  take  helme  and  targe, 
And  let  god  Mars  his  trumpet  make  you  mirth, 
The  roaring  cannon,  and  the  brazen  trumpe, 
The  angry-sounding  drum,  the  whistling  fife, 
The  shriekes  of  men,  the  princelie  courser's  ney." — H.  N.  H. 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Do  deeds  to  make  heaven  weep,  all  earth 
amazed; 

For  nothing  canst  thou  to  damnation  add 
Greater  than  that. 
I  ago.  O  grace!    O  heaven  defend  me! 

Are  you  a  man?  have  you  a  soul  or  sense? 
God  be  wi'  you;  take  mine  office.    O  wretched 
fool, 

That  livest  to  make  thine  honesty  a  vice ! 

0  monstrous  world!    Take  note,  take  note,  O 
world, 

To  be  direct  and  honest  is  not  safe. 

1  thank  you  for  this  profit,  and  from  hence 

I  '11  love  no  friend  sith  love  breeds  such  offense. 
Oth.  Nay,  stay:  thou  shouldst  be  honest.  381 
I  ago.  I  should  be  wise;  for  honesty 's  a  fool, 

And  loses  that  it  works  for. 
Oth.  By  the  world, 

I  think  my  wife  be  honest,  and  think  she  is  not; 

I  think  that  thou  art  just,  and  think  thou  art 
not: 

I  '11  have  some  proof.    Her  name,  that  was  as 
fresh 

As  Dian's  visage,  is  now  begrimed  and  black 
As  mine  own  face.    If  there  be  cords,  or  knives, 
Poison,  or  fire,  or  suff ocating  streams, 
I  '11  not  endure  it.    Would  I  were  satisfied !  390 

Iago.  I  see,  sir,  you  are  eaten  up  with  passion : 
I  do  repent  me  that  I  put  it  to  you. 
You  would  be  satisfied? 

Oth.  Would!  nay,  I  will. 

Iago.  And  may:  but,  how?  how  satisfied,  my  lord? 

92 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


Would  you,  the  supervisor,  grossly  gape  on? 

Behold  her  topp'd? 
Oth.  Death  and  damnation!  O! 

lago.  It  were  a  tedious  difficulty,  I  think, 

To  bring  them  to  that  prospect:  damn  them 
then, 

If  ever  mortal  eyes  do  see  them  bolster 
More  than  their  own!    What  then?  how  then? 
What  shall  I  say?    Where's  satisfaction?  401 
It  is  impossible  you  should  see  this, 
Were  they  as  prime  as  goats,  as  hot  as  monkeys, 
As  salt  as  wolves  in  pride,  and  fools  as  gross 
As  ignorance  made  drunk.    But  yet,  I  say, 
If  imputation  and  strong  circumstances, 
Which  lead  directly  to  the  door  of  truth, 
Will  give  you  satisfaction,  you  may  have 't. 

Oth.  Give  me  a  living  reason  she 's  disloyal. 

lago.  I  do  not  like  the  office :  410 
But  sith  I  am  enter'd  in  this  cause  so  far, 
Prick'd  to 't  by  foolish  honesty  and  love, 
I  wiR;  go  on.    I  lay  with  Cassio  lately, 
And  being  troubled  with  a  raging  tooth, 
I  could  not  sleep. 

There  are  a  kind  of  men  so  loose  of  soul, 
That  in  their  sleeps  will  mutter  their  affairs : 
One  of  this  kind  is  Cassio : 
In  sleep  I  heard  him  say  'Sweet  Desdemona, 
Let  us  be  wary,  let  us  hide  our  loves ;'  420 
And  then,  sir,  would  he  gripe  and  wring  my 
hand, 

Cry  'O  sweet  creature!'  and  then  kiss  me  hard, 

406.  "circumstances";  indirect,  circumstantial  evidence.— C.  H.  H. 

93 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


As  if  he  pluck' d  up  kisses  by  the  roots, 

That  grew  upon  my  lips:  then  laid  his  leg 

Over  my  thigh,  and  sigh'd  and  kiss'd,  and  then 

Cried  'Cursed  fate  that  gave  thee  to  the  Moor!' 
Oth.  O  monstrous!  monstrous! 
la  go.  Nay,  this  was  but  his  dream. 

Oth.  But  this  denoted  a  foregone  conclusion: 

'Tis  a  shrewd  doubt,  though  it  be  but  a  dream.  «f 
I  ago.  And  this  may  help  to  thicken  other  proofs  430 

That  do  demonstrate  thinly. 
Oth.  I  '11  tear  her  all  to  pieces. 

Iago.  Nay,  but  be  wise:  yet  we  see  nothing  done; 

She  may  be  honest  yet.    Tell  me  but  this; 

Have  you  not  sometimes  seen  a  handkerchief 

Spotted  with  strawberries  in  your  wife's  hand. 
Oth.  I  gave  her  such  a  one;  'twas  my  first  gift. 
Iago.  I  know  not  that:  but  such  a  handkerchief — 

I  am  sure  it  was  your  wife's — did  I  to-day 

See  Cassio  wipe  his  beard  with. 
Oth.  If  it  be  that  — 

Iago.  If  it  be  that,  or  any  that  was  hers,  440 

It  speaks  against  her  with  the  other  proofs. 
Oth.  O,  that  the  slave  had  forty  thousand  lives! 

One  is  too  poor,  too  weak  for  my  revenge. 

Now  do  I  see  'tis  true.    Look  here,  Iago ; 

All  my  fond  love  thus  do  I  blow  to  heaven: 

'Tis  gone. 

Arise,  black  vengeance,  from  thy  hollow  cell! 

435.  "Spotted";  embroidered.— C.  H.  H. 

440.  "any  that  teas  hers";  Malone's  emendation;  Qq.,  "any,  it  was 
hers";  F.  1,  "any,  it  was  hers";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "any,  ift  was  hers"; 
Anon.  conj.  "any  'it'  was  hers" — I.  G. 

447.  "thy  hollow  cell";  so  Qq.;  Ff.  read  "the  hollow  hell";  War- 
burton,  "th'  unhallow'd  cell." — I.  G. 

94 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 


Yield  up,  O  love,  thy  crown  and  hearted  throne 
To  tyrannous  hate!    Swell,  bosom,  1vith  thy 

fraught, 
For  'tis  of  aspics'  tongues ! 

Iago.  Yet  be  content.  450 

Oth.  O,  blood,  blood,  blood! 

Iago.  Patience,  I  say;  your  mind  perhaps  may 
change. 

Oth.  Never,  Iago.    Like  to  the  Pontic  sea, 
Whose  icy  current  and  compulsive  course 
Ne'er  feels  retiring  ebb,  but  keeps  due  on 
To  the  Propontic  and  the  Hellespont ; 
Even  so  my  bloody  thoughts,  with  violent  pace, 
Shall  ne'er  look  back,  ne'er  ebb  to  humble  love, 
Till  that  a  capable  and  wide  revenge 
Swallow  them  up.    Now,  by  yond  marble 
heaven,  460 
In  the  due  reverence  of  a  sacred  vow  [Kneels. 
I  here  engage  my  words. 

Iago.  Do  not  rise  yet.  [Kneels. 

Witness,  you  ever-burning  lights  above, 
You  elements  that  clip  us  round  about, 
Witness  that  here  Iago  doth  give  up 
The  execution  of  his  wit,  hands,  heart, 
To  wronged  Othello's  service!    Let  him  com- 
mand, 

And  to  obey  shall  be  in  me  remorse, 

What  bloody  business  ever.  [They  arise. 

456.  Steevens  compares  the  following  passage  in  Holland's  Pliny: 
— "And  the  sea  Pontus  ever  more  floweth  and  runneth  out  from 
Propontes,  but  the  sea  never  retireth  back  again  within  Pontus." — 
I.  G. 

469.  "business  ever";  Qq.,  "worke  so  euer";  Collier,  "work  soe'er" 
&c. — I.  G. 

95 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 


OTHELLO 


Oth.  I  greet  thy  love, 

Not  with  vain  thanks,  but  with  acceptance 
bounteous,  470 
And  will  upon  the  instant  put  thee  to 't: 
Within  these  three  days  let  me  hear  thee  say 
That  Cassio 's  not  alive. 

lago.  My  friend  is  dead ;  'tis  done  at  your  request : 
But  let  her  live. 

Oth.  Damn  her,  lewd  minx!    O,  damn  her! 

Come,  go  with  me  apart;  I  will  withdraw, 
To  furnish  me  with  some  swift  means  of  death 
For  the  fair  devil.    Now  art  thou  my  lieuten- 
ant. 

lago.  I  am  your  own  for  ever.  [Eooeunt. 


Scene  IV 

Before  the  castle. 

Enter  Desdemona,  Emilia,  and  Clown. 

Des.  Do  you  know,  sirrah,  where  Lieutenant 

Cassio  lies? 
Clo.  I  dare  not  say  he  lies  any  where. 
Des.  Why,  man? 

Clo.  He 's  a  soldier;  and  for  one  to  say  a  soldier 

lies,  is  stabbing. 
Des.  Go  to:  where  lodges  he? 
Clo.  To  tell  you  where  he  lodges,  is  to  tell  you 

where  I  lie. 

Des.  Can  any  thing  be  made  of  this?  10 
Clo.  I  know  not  where  he  lodges ;  and  for  me  to 

96 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc. 


iv. 


devise  a  lodging,  and  say  he  lies  her£  or  he 
lies  there,  were  to  lie  in  mine  own  throat. 
Des.  Can  you  inquire  him  out  and  be  edified  by 
report  ? 

Clo.  I  will  catechize  the  world  for  him;  that  is, 
make  questions  and  by  them  answer. 

Des.  Seek  him,  bid  him  come  hither :  tell  him  I 
have  moved  my  lord  on  his  behalf  and  hope 
all  will  be  well.  20 

Clo.  To  do  this  is  within  the  compass  of  man's  wit, 
and  therefore  I  will  attempt  the  doing  it.[  Exit. 

Des.  Where   should   I   lose   that  handkerchief, 
Emilia? 

Emit.  I  know  not,  madam. 

Des.  Believe  me,  I  had  rather  have  lost  my  purse 
Full  of  crusadoes :  and,  but  my  noble  Moor 

17.  "by  them  answer";  that  is,  and  by  them,  when  answered,  form 
my  own  answer  to  you.  The  quaintness  of  the  answer  is  in  character. 
— H.  N.  H. 

24.  "I  know  not";  objection  has  been  made  to  the  conduct  of 
Emilia  in  this  scene,  as  inconsistent  with  the  spirit  she  afterwards 
shows.  We  can  discover  no  such  inconsistency.  Want  of  principle 
and  strength  of  attachment  are  often  thus  seen  united.  Emilia  loves 
her  mistress  deeply;  but  she  has  no  moral  repugnance  to  theft  and 
falsehood,  apprehends  no  fatal  consequences  from  the  Moor's  pas- 
sion, and  has  no  soul  to  conceive  the  agony  her  mistress  must  suffer 
by  the  charge  of  infidelity;  and  it  is  but  natural,  that  when  the 
result  comes  she  should  be  the  more  spirited  for  the  very  remem- 
brance of  her  own  guilty  part  in  the  process.  It  is  the  seeing  of 
the  end,  that  rouses  such  people,  and  rouses  them  all  the  more  that 
themselves  have  served  as  means.  "Emilia,"  says  Mrs.  Jameson,  "is 
a  perfect  portrait  from  common  life,  a  masterpiece  in  the  Flemish 
style:  and,  though  not  necessary  as  a  contrast,  it  cannot  be  but  that 
the  thorough  vulgarity,  the  loose  principles  of  this  plebeian  woman, 
united  to  a  high  spirit,  energetic  feeling,  strong  sense,  and  low 
cunning,  serve  to  place  in  brighter  relief  the  exquisite  refinement, 
the  moral  grace,  the  unblemished  truth,  and  the  soft  submission  of 
Desdemona." — H.  N.  H. 

XXV— 7  97 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 


OTHELLO 


Is  true  of  mind  and  made  of  no  such  baseness 

As  jealous  creatures  are,  it  were  enough 

To  put  him  to  ill  thinking. 
Emil.  Is  he  not  jealous?  29 

Des.  Who,  he?    I  think  the  sun  where  he  was  born 

Drew  all  such  humors  from  him. 
Emil.  Look,  where  he  comes. 

Des.  I  will  not  leave  him  now  till  Cassio 

Be  call'd  to  him. 

Enter  Othello. 

How  is 't  with  you,  my  lord? 
Oth.  Well,  my  good  lady.    [Aside}    O,  hardness 
to  dissemble! 
How  do  you,  Desdemona? 
Des.  Well,  my  good  lord. 

Oth.  Give  me  your  hand:  this  hand  is  moist,  my 
lady. 

Des.  It  yet  has  felt  no  age  nor  known  no  sorrow. 

Oth.  This  argues  fruitfulness  and  liberal  heart: 
Hot,  hot,  and  moist :  this  hand  of  yours  requires 
A  sequester  from  liberty,  fasting  and  prayer, 
Much  castigation,  exercise  devout;  41 
For  here 's  a  young  and  sweating  devil  here, 
That  commonly  rebels.    'Tis  a  good  hand, 
A  frank  one. 

Des.  You  may,  indeed,  say  so; 

For  'twas  that  hand  that  gave  away  my  heart. 

Oth.  A  liberal  hand :  the  hearts  of  old  gave  hands ; 
But  our  new  heraldry  is  hands,  not  hearts. 

47.  "our  new  heraldy,"  {vide  Preface). — I.  G. 


98 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 


Des.  I  cannot  speak  of  this.    Come  now,  your 

promise. 
Oth.  What  promise,  chuck? 

Des.  I  have  sent  to  bid  Cassio  come  speak  with  you. 
Oth.  I  have  a  salt  and  sorry  rheum  offends  me;  51 

Lend  me  thy  handkerchief. 
Des.  Here,  my  lord. 

Oth.  That  which  I  gave  you. 

Des.  I  have  it  not  about  me. 


That  handkerchief 

Did  an  Egyptian  to  my  mother  give; 
She  was  a  charmer,  and  could  almost  read 
The  thoughts  of  people:  she  told  her,  while  she 
kept  it 

'Twould  make  her  amiable  and  subdue  my 
father 

Entirely  to  her  love,  but  if  she  lost  it  60 
Or  made  a  gift  of  it,  my  father's  eye 
Should  hold  her  loathed  and  his  spirits  should 
hunt 

After  new  fancies:  she  dying  gave  it  me, 
And  bid  me,  when  my  fate  would  have  me 
wife, 

To  give  it  her.    I  did  so :  and  take  heed  on 't ; 
Make  it  a  darling  like  your  precious  eye ; 

56.  "an  Egyptian" ;  probably  a  gipsy. — C.  H.  H. 
63.  "fancies";  loves.— C.  H.  H. 

65.  "her,"  i.  e.  to  my  wife  (implied  in  "wive"). — I.  G. 

In  the  last  scene  of  the  play,  Othello  speaks  of  the  handkerchief 
as  "an  antique  token  my  father  gave  my  mother."  This  has  been 
thought  an  oversight;  Steevens  regards  it  as  a  fresh  proof  of  the 


Oth.  Not? 

Des. 

Oth. 


No,  indeed,  my  lord. 


That 's  a  fault. 


QQ 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 


OTHELLO 


To  lose 't  or  give 't  away  were  such  perdition 
As  nothing  else  could  match. 

Des.  Is 't  possible  ? 

Oth.  JTis  true:  there 's  magic  in  a  web  of  it:  70 
A  sibyl,  that  had  number'd  in  the  world 
The  sun  to  course  two  hundred  compasses, 
In  her  prophetic  fury  sew'd  the  work; 
The  worms  were  hallow'd  that  did  breed  the 
silk ; 

And  it  was  dyed  in  mummy  which  the  skillful 

Conserved  of  maidens'  hearts. 
Des.  Indeed!  is 't  true? 

Oth.  Most  veritable;  therefore  look  to  't  well. 
Des.  Then  would  to  God  that  I  had  never  seen' t ! 
Oth.  Ha!  wherefore? 

Des.  Why  do  you  speak  so  startingly  and  rash?  79 

Oth.  Is 't  lost?  is 't  gone?  speak,  is  it  out  o'  the  way? 

Des.  Heaven  bless  us! 

Oth.  Say  you? 

Des.  It  is  not  lost;  but  what  an  if  it  were? 

Oth.  How! 

Des.  I  say,  it  is  not  lost. 

Oth.  Fetch 't,  let  me  see  it. 

Poet's  art.  "The  first  account,"  says  he,  "was  purposely  ostentatious, 
in  order  to  alarm  his  wife  the  more.  When  he  again  mentions  it, 
the  truth  was  sufficient."  We  must  add  a  remark  from  Mrs.  Jame- 
son: "This  handkerchief,  in  the  original  story  of  Cinthio,  is  merely 
one  of  those  embroidered  handkerchiefs  which  were  as  fashionable 
in  Shakespeare's  time  as  in  our  own;  but  the  minute  description  of 
it  as  'lavorato  alia  morisco  sottilissimamente,'  which  in  English  means 
nothing  more  than  that  the  pattern  was  what  we  now  call  arabesque, 
suggested  to  the  poetical  fancy  of  Shakespeare  one  of  the  most 
exquisite  and  characteristic  passages  in  the  whole  play.  Othello 
makes  poor  Desdemona  believe  that  the  handkerchief  was  a  talis- 
man."—H.  N.  H. 

100 


THE  MOOR  Act  in.  Sc.  iv. 

A 

Des.  Why,  so  I  can,  sir,  but  I  will  not  now. 
This  is  a  trick  to  put  me  from  my  suit: 
Pray  you,  let  Cassio  be  received  again. 

Oth.  Fetch  me  the  handkerchief :  my  mind  mis- 
gives. 

Des.  Come,  come ; 

You  '11  never  meet  a  more  sufficient  man.  90 

Oth.  The  handkerchief! 

Des.  I  pray,  talk  me  of  Cassio. 

Oth.  The  handkerchief! 

Des.  A  man  that  all  his  time 

Hath  founded  his  good  fortunes  on  your  love, 
Shared  dangers  with  you, — 

Oth.  The  handkerchief ! 

Des.  In  sooth,  you  are  to  blame. 

Oth.  Away!  [Exit. 

Emit.  Is  not  this  man  jealous? 

Des.  I  ne'er  saw  this  before. 

Sure  there 's  some  wonder  in  this  handkerchief : 
I  am  most  unhappy  in  the  loss  of  it. 

Emil.  'Tis  not  a  year  or  two  shows  us  a  man:  100 
They  are  all  but  stomachs  and  we  all  but  food; 
They  eat  us  hungerly,  and  when  they  are  full 
They  belch  us.    Look  you,  Cassio  and  my  hus- 
band. 

Enter  Cassio  and  lago. 

Iago.  There  is  no  other  way ;  'tis  she  must  do 't : 

And,  lo,  the  happiness !  go  and  importune  her. 
Des.  How  now,  good  Cassio !  what 's  the  news  with 
you? 

Cas.  Madam,  my  former  suit:  I  beseech  you 

101 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 


OTHELLO 


That  by  your  virtuous  means  I  may  again 
Exist,  and  be  a  member  of  his  love 
Whom  I  with  all  the  office  of  my  heart  HO 
Entirely  honor :  I  would  not  be  delay' d. 
If  my  offense  be  of  such  mortal  kind, 
That  nor  my  service  past  nor  present  sorrows 
Nor  purposed  merit  in  futurity 
Can  ransom  me  into  his  love  again, 
But  to  know  so  must  be  my  benefit ; 
So  shall  I  clothe  me  in  a  forced  content 
And  shut  myself  up  in  some  other  course 
To  fortune's  alms. 
Des.  Alas,  thrice-gentle  Cassio! 

My  advocation  is  not  now  in  tune;  120 
My  lord  is  not  my  lord,  nor  should  I  know  him 
Were  he  in  favor  as  in  humor  alter' d. 
So  help  me  every  spirit  sanctified, 
As  I  have  spoken  for  you  all  my  best 
And  stood  within  the  blank  of  his  displeasure 
For  my  free  speech!    You  must  awhile  be 
patient : 

What  I  can  do  I  will ;  and  more  I  will 
Than  for  myself  I  dare:  let  that  suffice  you. 
Iago.  Is  my  lord  angry  ? 

Emil.  He  went  hence  but  now, 

And  certainly  in  strange  unquietness.  130 

Iago.  Can  he  be  angry?    I  have  seen  the  cannon, 
When  it  hath  blown  his  ranks  into  the  air, 
And,  like  the  devil,  from  his  very  arm 

118.  "shut  myself  up  in"  &c,  ?.  e.,  "Confine  myseif  to  some  other 
course  of  life,  awaiting  fortune's  charity";  Q.  1,  "shoote  my  selfe 
up  in";  Capell,  "shoot  myself  upon" ;  Rann,  "shape  myself  upon"; 
Collier  MS.,  "shift  myself  upon"— I.  G. 

102 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III.  Sc.  IV 


PufF'd  his  own  brother ;  and  can  he  be  angry  ? 
Something  of  moment  then :  I  will  go  meet  him : 
There 's  matter  in 't  indeed  if  he  be  angry. 
Des.  I  prithee,  do  so.  [Exit  Iago. 

Something  sure  of  state, 
Either  from  Venice  some  unhatch'd  practice 
Made  demonstrable  here  in  Cyprus  to  him, 
Hath  puddled  his  clear  spirit ;  and  in  such  cases 
Men's  natures  wrangle  with  inferior  things,  141 
Though  great  ones  are  their  object.    'Tis  even 
so; 

For  let  our  finger  ache,  and  it  indues 

Our  other  healthful  members  even  to  that  sense 

Of  pain:  nay,  we  must  think  men  are  not  gods, 

Nor  of  them  look  for  such  observancy 

As  fits  the  bridal.    Beshrew  me  much,  Emilia, 

I  was,  unhandsome  warrior  as  I  am, 

Arraigning  his  unkindness  with  my  soul; 

But  now  I  find  I  had  suborn' d  the  witness,  150 

And  he 's  indicted  falsely. 

Emil.  Pray  heaven  it  be  state-matters,  as  you  think, 
And  no  conception  nor  no  jealous  toy 
Concerning  you. 

Des.  Alas  the  day,  I  never  gave  him  cause ! 

Emil.  But  jealous  souls  will  not  be  answer'd  so; 
They  are  not  ever  jealous  for  the  cause, 
But  jealous  for  they  are  jealous:  'tis  a  monster 
Begot  upon  itself,  born  on  itself. 

Des.  Heaven  keep  that  monster  from  Othello's 
mind!  160 

148.  "warrior";  Hanmer  "wrangler" ;  cp.  "O  my  fair  warrior"; 
(II.  i.  184). — I.  G. 

5  F  103 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 


OTHELLO 


Emil.  Lady,  amen. 

Des.  I  will  go  seek  him.    Cassio,  walk  hereabout: 
If  I  do  find  him  fit,  I  '11  move  your  suit, 
And  seek  to  efT ect  it  to  my  uttermost. 

Cas.  I  humbly  thank  your  ladyship. 

[Exeunt  Desdemona  and  Emilia. 

Enter  Bianca. 

Bian.  Save  you,  friend  Cassio! 
Cas.  What  make  you  from  home? 

How  is  it  with  you,  my  most  fair  Bianca? 
I'  faith,  sweet  love,  I  was  coming  to  your  house, 
Bian.  And  I  was  going  to  your  lodging,  Cassio. 
What,  keep  a  week  away?  seven  days  and 
nights?  170 
Eight  score  eight  hours?  and  lovers'  absent 
hours, 

More  tedious  than  the  dial  eight  score  times? 

0  weary  reckoning! 

Cas.  Pardon  me,  Bianca, 

1  have  this  while  with  leaden  thoughts  been 

press'd ; 

But  I  shall  in  a  more  continuate  time 
Strike  off  this  score  of  absence.    Sweet  Bi- 
anca, 

[Giving  her  Desdemona  s  handkerchief. 
Take  me  this  work  out. 

170.  "seven  days  and  nights";  it  would  seem,  by  this,  that  seven 
days  at  least  have  elapsed  since  Cassio  was  cashiered;  perhaps  much 
more,  as  the  "leaden  thoughts"  may  have  been  kept  off  for  some 
time  by  the  hopes  built  upon  Desdemona's  promise  of  intercession, 
and  brought  on  again  by  the  unexpected  delay.  See  Act  iii.  sc.  3. 
— H.  N.  H. 


104 


THE  MOOR 


Act  III,  Sc.  if. 


Bian.  O  Cassio,  whence  came  this? 

This  is  some  token  from  a  newer  friend: 
To  the  felt  absence  now  I  feel  a  cause: 
Is 't  come  to  this  ?    Well,  well. 

Cas.  Go  to,  woman!  180 

Throw  your  vile  guesses  in  the  devil's  teeth, 
From  whence  you  have  them.    You  are  jealous 
now 

That  this  is  from  some  mistress,  some  remem- 
brance : 
No,  by  my  faith,  Bianca. 

Bian.  Why,  whose  is  it? 

Cas.  I  know  not,  sweet:  I  found  it  in  my  chamber, 
I  like  the  work  well:  ere  it  be  demanded — 
As  like  enough  it  will — I  'Id  have  it  copied : 
Take  it,  and  do 't;   rd  leave  me  for  this  time, 

Bian.  Leave  you!  wherefore? 

Cas.  I  do  attend  here  on  the  general;  190 

And  think  it  no  addition,  nor  my  wish, 

To  have  him  see  me  woman'd. 
Bian.  Why,  I  pray  you? 

Cas.  Not  that  I  love  you  not. 
Bian.  But  that  you  do  not  love  me. 

I  pray  you,  bring  me  on  the  way  a  little ; 

And  say  if  I  shall  see  you  soon  at  night, 
Cas  'Tis  but  a  little  way  that  I  can  bring  you; 

For  I  attend  here :  but  I  '11  see  you  soon. 
Bian.  'Tis  very  good ;  I  must  be  circumstanced. 

[Exeunt 

201.  "be  circumstanced"  ;  submit  to  circumstances. — C.  H.  H, 


10* 


Act  IV.  Sc.  L 


OTHELLO 


ACT  FOURTH 

Scene  I 

Cyprus.    Before  the  castle. 
Enter  Othello  and  Iago. 

I  ago.  Will  you  think  so? 

Oth.  Think  so,  Iago! 

Iago.  What, 
To  kiss  in  private? 

Oth.  An  unauthorized  kiss. 

Iago.  Or  to  be  naked  with  her  friend  in  bed 
An  hour  or  more,  not  meaning  any  harm. 

Oth.  Naked  in  bed,  Iago,  and  not  mean  harm! 
It  is  hypocrisy  against  the  devil: 
They  that  mean  virtuously  and  yet  do  so, 
The  devil  their  virtue  tempts  and  they  tempt 
heaven. 

4.  "not  meaning  any  harm" ;  we  must  suppose  that  Iago  had  been 
applying  cases  of  false  comfort  to  Othello;  as  that,  though  the 
parties  had  been  even  found  in  bed  together,  there  might  be  no 
harm  done:  it  might  be  only  for  trial  of  their  virtue;  as  was  reported 
of  the  Romish  saint,  Robert  D'Arbrissel,  and  his  nuns  (Warburton). 
— H.  N.  H. 

8.  The  "devil  tempts  their  virtue"  by  stirring  up  their  passions, 
and  they  tempt  heaven  by  placing  themselves  in'  a  situation  which 
makes  it  scarcely  possible  to  avoid  falling  by  the  gratification  of 
them.  Perhaps  the  story  of  St.  Adhelm,  related  in  Bale's  Actes  of 
Enghfsh  Votaries,  is  referred  to:  "This  Adhelmus  never  refused 
women,  but  wold  have  them  commonly  both  at  borde  and  bedde,  to 
mocke  the  devyll  with." — H.  N.  H. 

106 


THE  MOOR 


Act.  IV.  Sc.  i. 


lago.  So  they  do  nothing,  'tis  a  venial  slip : 

But  if  I  give  my  wife  a  handkerchief —  10 
Oth.  What  then? 

Iago.  Why,  then,  'tis  hers,  my  lord ;  and  being  hers, 

She  may,  I  think,  bestow 't  on  any  man. 
Oth.  She  is  protectress  of  her  honor  too : 

May  she  give  that? 
Iago.  Her  honor  is  an  essence  that 's  not  seen; 

They  have  it  very  oft  that  have  it  not: 

But  for  the  handkerchief — 
Oth.  By  heaven,  I  would  most  gladly  have  forgot 
it: 

Thou  said'st — O,  it  comes  o'er  my  memory,  20 
As  doth  the  raven  o'er  the  inf  ected  house, 
Boding  to  all — he  had  my  handkerchief. 

Iago.  Aye,  what  of  that? 

Oth.  That 's  not  so  good  now. 

Iago.  What, 
If  I  had  said  I  had  seen  him  do  you  wrong? 
Or  heard  him  say — as  knaves  be  such  abroad, 
Who  having,  by  their  own  importunate  suit, 
Or  voluntary  dotage  of  some  mistress, 
Convinced  or  supplied  them,  cannot  choose 
But  they  must  blab — 

Oth.  Hath  he  said  anything? 

Iago.  He  hath,  my  lord ;  but  be  you  well  assured, 
No  more  than  he  '11  unswear. 

Oth.  What  hath  he  said? 

Iago.  Faith,  that  he  did — I  know  not  what  he  did. 

28.  "convinced  or  supplied";  that  is,  having  either  conquered  her 
reluctance  or  complied  with  her  wish.  The  proper  meaning  of  conn 
vince  is  conquer  or  overcome. — H.  N.  H. 


107 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


Oth.  What,  what?  33 

I  ago.  Lie — 

Oth.  With  her? 

lago.  With  her,  on  her ;  what  you  will. 

Oth.  Lie  with  her!  lie  on  her! — We  say  lie  on 
her,  when  they  belie  her. — Lie  with  her! 
'Zounds,  that's  fulsome!  Handkerchief — 
conf essions  —  handkerchief !  —  To  confess, 
and  be  hanged  for  his  labor;  first,  to  be 
hanged,  and  then  to  confess.  I  tremble  at  40 
it.    Nature  would  not  invest  herself  in  such 

41.  "Nature  would  not  invest";  this  passage  has  called  forth  a 
large  fund  of  critical  ingenuity.  Dr.  Johnson  explains  it  thus: 
"There  has  always  prevailed  in  the  world  an  opinion,  that  when  any 
great  calamity  happens  at  a  distance,  notice  is  given  of  it  to  the 
sufferer  by  some  dejection  or  perturbation  of  mind,  of  which  he 
discovers  no  external  cause.  This  is  ascribed  to  that  general  com- 
munication of  one  part  of  the  universe  with  another,  which  is  called 
sympathy  and  antipathy;  or  to  the  secret  monition,  instruction,  and 
influence  of  a  superior  Being,  which  superintends  the  order  of  nature 
and  of  life.  Othello  says,  'Nature  would  not  invest  herself  in  such 
shadowing  passion,  without  some  instruction:  It  is  not  words  that 
shake  me  thus.'  This  passion,  which  spreads  its  clouds  over  me,  is 
the  effect  of  some  agency  more  than  the  operation  of  words:  it  is 
one  of  those  notices  which  men  have  of  unseen  calamities." — The 
explanation  given  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  is,  that  Othello  does  not 
here  refer  to  any  feelings  of  his  own,  but  to  the  story  of  Cassio's 
dream,  which  lago  has  fabricated  and  told  him;  and  of  which  Othello 
has  already  said,  "But  this  denoted  a  foregone  conclusion" ;  meaning, 
of  course,  that  Cassio's  dream  was  but  an  involuntary  remembrance 
and  repetition  of  what  he  had  actually  done  before.  So  that  the 
sense  may  be  given  something  thus:  "Nature  would  not  in  Cassio 
clothe  herself  in  such  shadowing  passion,  or  would  not  give  out 
such  adumbrations  of  passion,  without  some  former  experience,  or 
the  instruction  of  some  foregoing  fact." — Either  of  these  explana- 
tions may  be  right,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  choose  between  them; 
though  we  rather  incline  to  the  latter:  for,  as  Sir  Joshua  says, 
"Othello,  in  broken  sentences  and  single  words,  all  of  which  have 
a  reference  to  the  cause  of  his  jealousy,  shows  that  all  the  proofs 
are  present  at  once  to  his  mind,  which  so  overpower  it  that  he  falls 
into  a  trance, — the  natural  consequence. — H.  N.  H. 

1Q« 


THE  MOOR 


Act.  IV.  Sc.  i. 


shadowing  passion  without  some  instruction. 
It  is  not  words  that  shakes  me  thus.  Pish! 
Noses,  ears  and  lips.  Is 't  possible? — Con- 
f ess  ? — Handkerchief  ? — O  devil ! 

[Falls  in  a  trance. 

Iago.  Work  on, 

My  medicine,  work!    Thus  credulous  fools  are 
caught : 

And  many  worthy  and  chaste  dames  even  thus, 
All  guiltless,  meet  reproach.    What,  ho!  my 
lord! 

My  lord,  I  say!  Othello! 

Enter  Cassio. 

How  now,  Cassio !  50 

Cas.  What's  the  matter? 

Iago.  My  lord  is  fall'n  into  an  epilepsy: 

This  is  his  second  fit;  he  had  one  yesterday. 

Cas.  Rub  him  about  the  temples. 

Iago.  No,  forbear; 

The  lethargy  must  have  his  quiet  course: 
If  not,  he  foams  at  mouth,  and  by  and  by 
Breaks  out  to  savage  madness.    Look,  he  stirs: 
Do  you  withdraw  yourself  a  little  while, 
He  will  recover  straight:  when  he  is  gone, 

45.  "O  devil!";  "The  starts,"  says  Warburton,  "and  broken  re- 
flections in  this  speech  have  something  in  them  very  terrible,  and 
show  the  mind  of  the  speaker  to  be  in  inexpressible  agonies." — The 
trance  is  thus  justified  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds:  "When  many  con- 
fused and  very  interesting  ideas  pour  in  upon  the  mind  all  at  once, 
and  with  such  rapidity  that  it  has  not  time  to  shape  or  digest  them, 
if  it  does  not  relieve  itself  by  tears,  (which  we  know  it  often  does, 
whether  for  joy  or  grief,)  ::t  produces  stupefaction  and  fainting." 
— H.  N.  H. 

10§ 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


I  would  on  great  occasion  speak  with  you.  60 

[Exit  Cassio. 

How  is  it,  general?  have  you  not  hurt  your  head? 
Oth.  Dost  thou  mock  me? 

I  ago,  I  mock  you !  no,  by  heaven. 

Would  you  would  bear  your  fortune  like  a  man! 

Oth.  A  horned  man 's  a  monster  and  a  beast. 

I  ago.  There  's  many  a  beast  then  in  a  populous  city, 
And  many  a  civil  monster. 

Oth.  Did  he  confess  it? 

Iago,  Good  sir,  be  a  man ; 

Think  every  bearded  fellow  that 's  but  yoked 
May  draw  with  you :  there 's  millions  now  alive 
That  nightly  lie  in  those  unproper  beds  70 
Which  they  dare  swear  peculiar:  your  case  is 
better. 

O,  'tis  the  spite  of  hell,  the  fiend's  arch-mock, 
To  lip  a  wanton  in  a  secure  couch, 
And  to  suppose  her  chaste!    No,  let  me  know; 
And  knowing  what  I  am,  I  know  what  she  shall 
be. 

Oth,  O,  thou  art  wise ;  'tis  certain. 

Iago,  Stand  you  awhile  apart ; 

Confine  yourself  but  in  a  patient  list. 

Whilst  you  were  here  o'erwhelmed  with  your 
grief — 

A  passion  most  unsuiting  such  a  man — 
Cassio  came  hither;  I  shifted  him  away,  80 
And  laid  good  'scuse  upon  your  ecstasy ; 

70.  "improper  beds";  that  is,  beds  not  their  own,  not  peculiar, 
common. — H.  N.  H. 
78.  "here  o'erwhelmed";  Q.  1,  "here  ere  while,  mad." — I.  G. 

110 


THE  MOOR 


Act.  IV.  Sc.  i. 


Bade  him  anon  return  and  here  speak  with  me; 
The  which  he  promised.    Do  but  encave  your- 
self, 

And  mark  the  fleers,  the  gibes  and  notable 
scorns, 

That  dwell  in  every  region  of  his  face; 

For  I  will  make  him  tell  the  tale  anew, 

Where,  how,  how  oft,  how  long  ago  and  when 

He  hath  and  is  again  to  cope  your  wife : 

I  say,  but  mark  his  gesture.    Marry,  patience; 

Or  I  shall  say  you  are  all  in  all  in  spleen,  90 

And  nothing  of  a  man. 

Oth.  Dost  thou  hear,  Iago? 

I  will  be  found  most  cunning  in  my  patience; 
But — dost  thou  hear? — most  bloody. 

Iago.  That 's  not  amiss ; 

But  yet  keep  time  in  all.    Will  you  withdraw? 

[Othello  retires. 
Now  will  I  question  Cassio  of  Bianca, 
A  housewife  that  by  selling  her  desires 
Buys  herself  bread  and  clothes:  it  is  a  creature 
That  dotes  on  Cassio;  as  'tis  the  strumpet's 
plague 

To  beguile  many  and  be  beguiled  by  one. 
He,  when  he  hears  of  her,  cannot  refrain  100 
From  the  excess  of  laughter.    Here  he  comes. 

Re-enter  Cassio. 

As  he  shall  smile,  Othello  shall  go  mad; 
And  his  unbookish  jealousy  must  construe 
Poor  Cassio's  smiles,  gestures  and  light  behav- 
ior, 

ill 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


Quite  in  the  wrong.    How  do  you  now,  lieu- 
tenant ? 

Cas.  The  worser  that  you  give  me  the  addition 

Whose  want  even  kills  me. 
lago.  Ply  Desdemona  well,  and  you  are  sure  on 't. 

Now,  if  this  suit  lay  in  Bianca's  power, 

How  quickly  should  you  speed! 
Cas.  Alas,  poor  caitiff !  HO 

Oth.  Look,  how  he  laughs  already ! 
lago.  I  never  knew  a  woman  love  man  so. 
Cas.  Alas,  poor  rogue!    I  think,  i  faith,  she  loves 
me. 

Oth.  Now  he  denies  it  faintly  and  laughs  it  out. 

lago.  Do  you  hear,  Cassio? 

Oth.  Now  he  importunes  him 

To  tell  it  o'er :  go  to ;  well  said,  well  said. 
lago.  She  gives  it  out  that  you  shall  marry  her: 

Do  you  intend  it? 
Cas.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  119 
Oth.  Do  you  triumph,  Roman?  do  you  triumph? 
Cas.  I  marry  her !  what,  a  customer !    I  prithee, 

bear  some  charity  to  my  wit ;  do  not  think  it 

so  unwholesome.    Ha,  ha,  ha! 
Oth.  So,  so,  so,  so:  they  laugh  that  win. 
lago.  Faith,  the  cry  goes  that  you  shall  marry 
her. 

Cas.  Prithee,  say  true. 
lago.  I  am  a  very  villain  else. 
Oth.  Have  you  scored  me?  Well. 

106.  "addition";  title.— C.  H.  H. 

121.  {"What,  a  customer!")-,  ii.  73-76;  iii.  60-63,  87-104;  omitted 
in  Q.  1.— I.  G. 


112 


THE  MOOR 


Act.  IV.  Sc.  i. 


Cas.  This  is  the  monkey's  own  giving  out:  she 
is  persuaded  I  will  marry  her,  out  of  her  own  130 
love  and  flattery,  not  out  of  my  promise. 

Oth.  Iago  beckons  me;  now  he  begins  the 
story. 

Cas.  She  was  here  even  now:  she  haunts  me  in 
every  place.  I  was  the  other  day  talking 
on  the  sea-bank  with  certain  Venetians ;  and 
thither  comes  the  bauble,  and,  by  this  hand, 
she  falls  me  thus  about  my  neck — 

Oth.  Crying  'O  dear  Cassio!'  as  it  were:  his 
gesture  imports  it.  140 

Cas.  So  hangs  and  lolls  and  weeps  upon  me ;  so 
hales  and  pulls  me :  ha,  ha,  ha ! 

Oth.  Now  he  tells  how  she  plucked  him  to  my 
chamber.  O,  I  see  that  nose  of  yours,  but 
not  that  dog  I  shall  throw  it  to. 

Cas.  Well,  I  must  leave  her  company. 

Iago.  Before  me!  look,  where  she  comes. 

Cas.  'Tis  such  another  fitchew!  marry,  a  per- 
fumed one. 

Enter  Bianca. 

What  do  you  mean  by  this  haunting  of  me?  150 
Bian.  Let  the  devil  and  his  dam  haunt  you! 
What  did  you  mean  by  that  same  handker- 
chief you  gave  me  even  now!  I  was  a  fine 
fool  to  take  it.  I  must  take  out  the  work? 
A  likely  piece  of  work,  that  you  should  find 

137-142.  "and,  by  this  hand,  she  falls  me";  so  Collier;  Q.  1,  reads 
"by  this  hand  she  fals";  Ff.,  "and  folic  me";  Qq.  2,  3,  "fals  me."— 
I.  G. 

XXV-8  lis 


Act  IV  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


it  in  your  chamber,  and  not  know  who  left 
it  there!  This  is  some  minx's  token,  and  I 
must  take  out  the  work?  There;  give  it 
your  hobby-horse:  wheresoever  you  had  it, 
I  '11  take  out  no  work  on 't.  160 
Cas.  How  now,  my  sweet  Bianca!  how  now! 
how  now! 

Oth.  By  heaven,  that  should  be  my  handker- 
chief ! 

Bian.  An  you  '11  come  to  supper  to-night,  you 
may;  an  you  will  not,  come  when  you  are 
next  prepared  for.  [Eocit. 

I  ago.  After  her,  after  her. 

Cas.  Faith,  I  must ;  she  '11  rail  i'  the  street  else. 

lago.  Will  you  sup  there?  170 

Cas.  Faith,  I  intend  so. 

lago.  Well,  I  may  chance  to  see  you;  for  I 

would  very  fain  speak  with  you. 
Cas.  Prithee,  come;  will  you? 

lago.  Go  to;  say  no  more.  [Exit  Cassio. 

Oth.  [Advancing]  How  shall  I  murder  him, 
iago? 

lago.  Did  you  perceive  how  he  laughed  at  his 

vice? 

Oth.  O  lago!  180 
lago.  And  did  you  see  the  handkerchief? 
Oth.  Was  that  mine  ? 

lago.  Yours,  by  this  hand:  and  to  see  how  he 
prizes  the  foolish  woman  your  wife!  she  gave 
it  him,  and  he  hath  given  it  his  whore. 

Oth.  I  would  have  him  nine  years  a-killing. 


114 


THE  MOOR 


Act.  IV.  Sc.  i. 


A  fine  woman!  a  fair  woman!  a  sweet 
woman ! 

Iago.  Nay,  you  must  forget  that. 

Oth.  Aye,  let  her  rot,  and  perish,  and  be  damned  190 
to-night;  for  she  shall  not  live:  no,  my  heart 
is  turned  to  stone ;  I  strike  it,  and  it  hurts  my 
hand.  O,  the  world  hath  not  a  sweeter 
creature :  she  might  lie  by  an  emperor's  side, 
and  command  him  tasks. 

Iago.  Nay,  that 's  not  your  way. 

Oth.  Hang  her!    I  do  but  say  what  she  is:  so 
delicate  with  her  needle :  an  admirable  musi- 
cian :  O,  she  will  sing  the  savageness  out  of  a 
bear :  of  so  high  and  plenteous  wit  and  in-  200 
vention : — 

Iago.  She 's  the  worse  for  all  this. 

Oth.  O,  a  thousand  thousand  times:  and  then, 
of  so  gentle  a  condition! 

Iago.  Aye,  too  gentle. 

Oth.  Nay,  that's  certain:  but  yet  the  pity  of 
it,  Iago!    O  Iago,  the  pity  of  it,  Iago! 

Iago.  If  you  are  so  fond  over  her  iniquity,  give 
her  patent  to  offend;  for,  if  it  touch  not 
you,  it  comes  near  nobody.  210 

Oth.  I  will  chop  her  into  messes:  cuckold  me! 

Iago.  O,  'tis  foul  in  her. 

Oth.  With  mine  officer! 

Iago.  That 's  fouler. 

Oth.  Get  me  some  poison,  Iago;  this  night. 
I  '11  not  expostulate  with  her,  lest  her  body 
and  beauty  unprovide  my  mind  again:  this 
night,  Iago. 

115 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


lago.  Do  it  not  with  poison,  strangle  her  in  her 
bed,  even  the  bed  she  hath  contaminated.  220 

Oth.  Good,  good:  the  justice  of  it  pleases:  very 
good. 

Iago.  And  for  Cassio,  let  me  be  his  undertaker: 

you  shall  hear  more  by  midnight. 
Oth.  Excellent  good.    [A  trumpet  within]  What 

trumpet  is  that  same  ? 
Iago.  Something  from  Venice,  sure.    'Tis  Lodo- 

vico 

Come  from  the  duke:  and,  see,  your  wife  is  with 
him. 

Ente?'  Lodovico,  Desdemona,  and  Attendants. 

Lod.  God  save  the  worthy  general ! 

Oth.  With  all  my  heart,  sir. 

Lod.  The  duke  and  senators  of  Venice  greet  you. 

[Gives  him  a  letter. 
Oth.  I  kiss  the  instrument  of  their  pleasures.  230 

[Opens  the  letter,  and  reads. 
Des.  And  what 's  the  news,  good  cousin  Lodovico  ? 
Iago.  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  signior; 

Welcome  to  Cyprus. 
Lod.  I  thank  you.    How  does  Lieutenant  Cassio? 
Iago.  Lives,  sir. 

Des.  Cousin,  there's  fall'n  between  him  and  my 
lord 

An  unkind  breach :  but  you  shall  make  all  well. 
Oth.  Are  you  sure  of  that? 
Des.  My  lord? 

Oth.  [Reads]  'This  fail  you  not  to  do,  as  vou 
will—'  "240 
H6 


THE  MOOR 


Act.  IV.  Sc.  i. 


Lod.  He  did  not  call ;  he 's  busy  in  the  paper. 

Is  there  division  'twixt  my  lord  and  Cassio? 
Des.  A  most  unhappy  one :  I  would  do  much 

To  atone  them,  for  the  love  I  bear  to  Cassio. 
Oth.  Fire  and  brimstone ! 
Des.  My  lord? 

Oth.  I  Are  you  wise? 

Des.  What,  is  he  angry? 

Lod.  May  be  the  letter  moved  him; 

For,  as  I  think,  they  do  command  him  home,  > 
Deputing  Cassio  in  his  government. 

Des.  By  my  troth,  I  am  glad  on 't. 

Oth.  Indeed! 

Des.  My  lord? 

Oth.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  mad. 

Des.  Why,  sweet  Othello?  250 

Oth.  Devil  i  [Striking  her. 

Des.      I  have  not  deserved  this. 

Lod.  My  Lord,  this  would  not  be  believed  in  Ven- 
ice, 

Though  I  should  swear  I  saw 't :  'tis  very  much : 
Make  her  amends;  she  weeps. 
Oth.  O  devil,  devil! 

If  that  the  earth  could  teem  with  woman's  tears, 

255.  "If  that  the  earth  could  teem";  "if  women's  tears  could  im- 
pregnate the  earth."  By  the  doctrine  of  equivocal  generation  new 
animals  were  supposed  producible  by  new  combinations  of  matter. 
Shakespeare  here  alludes  to  the  fabulous  accounts  which  make  the 
crocodile  the  most  deceitful  of  animals.  "It  is  written  that  he  will 
weep  over  a  man's  head  when  he  hath  devoured  the  body,  and  will  then 
eat  up  the  head  too."  Wherefore  in  Latin  there  is  a  proverb,  "Croco- 
dili  lachrymae,  crocodiles  teares,  to  signifie  such  teares  as  are  feigned, 
and  spent  only  with  intent  to  deceive  or  do  harm"  (Bullokar's  Ex- 
positor,  1616). — H.  N.  H. 

117 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


Each  drop  she  falls  would  prove  a  crocodile. 

Out  of  my  sight ! 
Des.  I  will  not  stay  to  offend  you.  [Going. 

Lod.  Truly,  an  obedient  lady : 

I  do  beseech  your  lordship,  call  her  back. 
Oth.  Mistress! 

Des.  My  Lord?  260 

Oth.  What  would  you  with  her,  sir? 
Lod.  Who,  I,  my  lord? 

Oth.  Aye;  you  did  wish  that  I  would  make  her 
turn : 

Sir,  she  can  turn  and  turn,  and  yet  go  on, 
And  turn  again;  and  she  can  weep,  sir,  weep; 
And  she 's  obedient,  as  you  say,  obedient, 
Very  obedient.    Proceed  you  in  your  tears. 
Concerning    this,    sir, — O    well-painted  pas- 
sion ! — 

I  am  commanded  home.    Get  you  away ; 
I  '11  send  for  you  anon.    Sir,  I  obey  the  man- 
date, 

And  will  return  to  Venice.    Hence,  avaunt !  270 

[Exit  Desdemona. 
Cassio  shall  have  my  place.    And,  sir,  to-night, 
I  do  entreat  that  we  may  sup  together: 
You  are  welcome,  sir,  to  Cyprus.    Goats  and 
monkeys !  [Exit. 

273.  "Goats  and  monkeys";  in  this  exclamation  Shakespeare  has 
shown  great  art.  Iago  in  Act  iii.  sc.  3,  being  urged  to  give  some 
evident  proof  of  the  guilt  of  Cassio  and  Desdemona,  tells  the  Moor 
it  were  impossible  to  have  ocular  demonstration  of  it,  though  they 
should  be  as  prime  as  goats,  as  hot  as  monkeys.  These  words,  we 
may  suppose,  still  ring  in  the  ears  of  Othello,  who,  being  now  fully 
convinced  of  his  wife's  infidelity,  rushes  out  with  this  emphatic  ex- 
clamation.— H.  N.  H. 

118 


THE  MOOR  Act.  iv.  Sc.  i. 

Lod.  Is  this  the  noble  Moor  whom  our  full  senate 
Call  all  in  all  sufficient?    This  the  nature 
Whom  passion  could  not  shake  ?  whose  solid  vir- 
tue 

The  shot  of  accident  nor  dart  of  chance 

Could  neither  graze  nor  pierce  ? 
Iago.  He  is  much  changed. 

Lod.  Are  his  wits  safe?  is  he  not  light  of  brain? 
Iago.  He 's  that  he  is :  I  may  not  breathe  my  cen- 
sure 280 

What  he  might  be :  if  what  he  might  he  is  not, 

I  would  to  heaven  he  were ! 
Lod.  What,  strike  his  wife. 

Iago.  Faith,  that  was  not  so  well;  yet  would  I  knew 

That  stroke  would  prove  the  worst! 
Lod.  Is  it  his  use? 

Or  did  the  letters  work  upon  his  blood, 

And  new  create  this  fault? 
Iago.  Alas,  alas! 

It  is  not  honesty  in  me  to  /  speak 

What  I  have  seen  and  known.    You  shall  ob- 
serve him 

And  his  own  courses  will  denote  him  so  289 
That  I  may  save  my  speech:  do  but  go  after, 
And  mark  how  he  continues. 
Lod.  I  am  sorry  that  I  am  deceived  in  him. 

[Exeunt. 

275.  "This  the  nature"  Pope's  reading;  Qq.,  "This  the  noble  na- 
ture"; Ff.,  "Is  this  the  nature."— I.  G. 


119 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


Scene  II 

A  room  in  the  castle. 

Enter  Othello  and  Emilia. 

Oth.  You  have  seen  nothing,  then? 
Emil.  Nor  ever  heard,  nor  ever  did  suspect. 
Oth.  Yes,  you  have  seen  Cassio  and  she  together. 
Emil.  But  then  I  saw  no  harm,  and  then  I  heard 
Each  syllable  that  breath  made  up  between 
them. 

Oth.  What,  did  they  never  whisper? 

Emil.  Never,  my  lord.  10 

Oth.  Nor  send  you  out  o'  the  way? 

Emil.  Never. 

Oth.  To  fetch  her  fan,  her  gloves,  her  mask,  nor 

nothing  ? 
Emil.  Never  my  lord. 
Oth.  That 's  strange. 

Emil.  I  durst,  my  lord,  to  wager  she  is  honest, 
Lay  down  my  soul  at  stake:  if  you  think  other, 
Remove  your  thought ;  it  doth  abuse  your  bosom,, 
If  any  wretch  have  put  this  in  your  head, 
Let  heaven  requite  it  with  the  serpent's  curse ! 
For  if  she  be  not  honest,  chaste  and  true, 
There 's  no  man  happy ;  the  purest  of  their  wives 
Is  foul  as  slander. 

Oth.  Bid  her  come  hither :  go.  [Exit  Emilia. 

She  says  enough :  yet  she 's  a  simple  bawd  20 
That  cannot  say  as  much.    This  is  a  subtle 
whore, 

120 


THE  MOOR 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii 


A  closet  lock  and  key  of  villainous  secrets : 
And  yet  she  '11  kneel  and  pray ;  I  have  seen  hei 
do 't. 

Enter  Desdemona  with  Emilia. 

Des.  My  lord,  what  is  your  will? 
Oth.  Pray,  chuck,  come  hither. 

Des.  What  is  your  pleasure? 
Oth./  Let  me  see  your  eyes; 


Oth.  [To  Emilia1  Some  of  your  function,  mistress, 
Leave  procrtants  alone  and  shut  the  door; 
Cough,  or  cry  hem,  if  any  body  come : 
Your  mystery,  your  mystery:  nay,  dispatch.  30 


Des.  Upon  my  knees,  what  doth  your  speech  im- 
port? 

I  understand  a  fury  in  your  words, 
But  not  the  words. 
Oth.  Why,  what  art  thou? 

Des.  Your  wife,  my  lord ;  your  true  and  loyal  wife. 
Oth.  Come,  swear  it,  damn  thyself ; 

Lest,  being  like  one  of  heaven,  the  devils  them- 
selves 

Should  fear  to  seize  thee:  therefore  be  double- 

damn'd ; 
Swear  thou  art  honest. 
Des.  Heaven  doth  truly  know  it. 

Oth.  Heaven  truly  knows  that  thou  art  false  as 


27.  "Some  of  your  function";  something  that  belongs  to  vour  occu- 
pation.—G.  H.  H. 


in  my  face. 


Des. 


What  horrible  fancy 's  this? 


[Exit  Emilia. 


hell. 


121 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


Des.  To  whom,  my  lord?  with  whom?  how  am  I 
false?  40 
Oth.  O  Desdemona!    Away!  away!  away! 
Des.  Alas  the  heavy  day !    Why  do  you  weep  ? 
Am  I  the  motive  of  these  tears,  my  lord? 
If  haply  you  my  father  do  suspect 
An  instrument  of  this  your  calling  back, 
Lay  not  your  blame  on  me:  if  you  have  lost 
him, 

Why,  I  have  lost  him  too, 
Oth.  Had  it  pleased  heaven 

To  try  me  with  affliction;  had  they  rain'd 
All  kinds  of  sores  and  shames  on  my  bare  head, 
Steep'd  me  in  poverty  to  the  very  lips,  50 
Given  to  captivity  me  and  my  utmost  hopes, 
I  should  have  found  in  some  place  of  my  soul 
A  drop  of  patience :  but,  alas,  to  make  me 
A  fixed  figure  for  the  time  of  scorn 
To  point  his  slow  unmoving  finger  at! 

55.  "unmoving  finger";  much  has  been  written  upon  the  passage, 
and  divers  changes  proposed,  such  as  "hand  of  scorn,"  and  slowly 
moving,  most  of  them  originating  in  a  notion  that  the  Poet  had  some 
sort  of  time-piece  in  his  mind.  Probably,  not  to  say  certainly,  no 
such  reference  was  intended.  So  that  all  the  progeny  of  that  notion 
may  be  set  aside.  "The  time  of  scorn"  means,  no  doubt,  as  Knight 
says,  "the  age  of  scorn,"  that  is,  the  whole  period  during  which 
scorn  may  be  said  to  live.  The  "fixed  figure"  is  simply  the  speaker 
himself,  and  not  any  figure  on  a  dial-plate.  As  to  "slow-unmoving," 
the  sense  of  it  can  be  better  felt  than  expressed:  we  can  see  the 
sneer  darting  from  the  inexorable  finger,  ever  slowly  moving  with  the 
object,  never  moving  from  it;  but  we  cannot  speak  it  in  any  words 
but  Shakespeare's,  as  they  stand  in  the  text.  The  best  of  all  the 
proposed  changes  that  we  have  seen,  in  fact  the  only  one  worth  en- 
tertaining, is  Mr.  Hunter's,  who  would  transpose  for  and  of,  thus: 
"A  fixed  figure  of  the  time  for  Scorn  to  point,"  &c.  We  will  add 
Mr.  R.  G.  White's  comment  on  the  last  line  of  the  passage:  "Some 
have  chosen  the  reading  of  the  folio,  on  the  ground  that  if  the  finger 


122 


THE  MOOR 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 


Yet  could  I  bear  that  too ;  well,  very  well : 
But  there,  where  I  have  garner'd  up  my  heart, 
Where  either  I  must  live  or  bear  no  life, 
The  fountain  from  the  which  my  current  runs, 
Or  else  dries  up;  to  be  discarded  thence!  60 
Or  keep  it  as  a  cistern  for  foul  toads  - 
To  knot  and  gender  in!    Turn  thy  complexion 
there, 

Patience,  thou  young  and  rose-lipp'd  cherubin, 
Aye,  there,  look  grim  as  hell! 

Des.  I  hope  my  noble  lord  esteems  me  honest. 

Oth.  O,  aye ;  as  summer  flies  are  in  the  shambles, 
That  quicken  even  with  blowing.    O  thou  weed, 
Who  art  so  lovely  fair  and  smell'st  so  sweet 
That  the  sense  aches  at  thee,  would  thou  had'st 
ne'er  been  born ! 

Des.  Alas,  what  ignorant  sin  have  I  committed?  70 

Oth.  Was  this  fair  paper,  this  most  goodly  book, 
Made  to  write  'whore'  upon?    What  com- 
mitted! 

Committed!  'O  thou  public  commoner! 
I  should  make  very  forges  of  my  cheeks, 
That  would  to  cinders  burn  up  modesty, 
Did  I  but  speak  thy  deeds.    What  committed ! 
Heaven  stops  the  nose  at  it,  and  the  moon  winks ; 
The  bawdy  wind,  that  kisses  all  it  meets, 

of  scorn  be  'slow,'  it  must  move,  and  therefore,  'unmoving'  is  an  in- 
congruous epithet!  But  surely  the  finger  of  scorn  is  'unmoving,' 
because  it  does  not  move  from  its  object,  but  points  at  him  fixedly  and 
relentlessly.  To  say  that  a  thing  is  'slow,'  and  then  to  add  that  it 
moves,  is  certainly  worthy  only  of  an  idiot." — H.  N.  H. 

78.  "The  bawdy  wind";  so  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice:  "Hugg'd 
and  embraced  by  the  strumpet  wind" — H.  N.  H. 


123 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


Is  hush'd  within  the  hollow  mine  of  earth, 
And  will  not  hear  it.    What  committed !  80 
Impudent  strumpet! 

Des.  By  heaven,  you  do  me  wrong. 

Oth.  Are  not  you  a  strumpet? 

Des.  No,  as  I  am  a  Christian : 

If  to  preserve  this  vessel  for  my  lord 
From  any  other  foul  unlawful  touch 
Be  not  to  be  a  strumpet,  I  am  none. 

Oth.  What,  not  a  whore? 

Des.  No,  as  I  shall  be  saved. 

Oth.  Is 't  possible? 

Des.  O,  heaven  forgive  us! 

Oth.  I  cry  you  mercy  then : 

I  took  you  for  that  cunning  whore  of  Venice 
That  married  with  Othello.    [Raising  his  voice'] 
You,  mistress,  90 
That  have  the  office  opposite  to  Saint  Peter, 
And  keep  the  gate  of  hell ! 

Re-enter  Emilia. 

You,  you,  aye,  you: 
We  have  done  our  course ;  there 's  money  for 
your  pains: 

I  pray  you,  turn  the  key,  and  keep  our  counsel. 

[Exit. 

83.  "preserve  this  vessel";  this  expression  is  from  Sacred  Writ: 
"To  possess  his  vessel  in  sanctification." — H.  N.  H. 

91.  "office  opposite  to  St.  Peter";  that  is,  the  office  opposed  to  Saint 
Peter;  alluding,  evidently,  to  "the  power  of  the  keys,"  which  was 
given  to  the  Apostles  generally,  and  especially  to  Saint  Peter  as 
representing  them.  So  that  the  opposition  is  between  Emilia  as 
keeper  of  the  gate  of  hell,  and  Saint  Peter  as  keeper  of  the  gate 
of  heaven.  The  sense,  therefore,  requires  that  the  special  emphasis, 
if  there  be  any,  should  be  laid  on  opposite. — H.  N.  H. 

124 


THE  MOOR 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 


Emil.  Alas,  what  does  this  gentleman  conceive? 
How  do  you,  madam?  how  do  you,  my  good 
lady? 

Des.  Faith,  half  asleep. 

Emil.  Good  madam,  what's  the  matter  with  my 

lord? 
Des.  With  who? 

Emil.  Why,  with  my  lord,  madam.  100 
Des.  Who  is  thy  lord? 

Emil.  He  that  is  yours,  sweet  lady. 

Des.  I  have  none:  do  not  talk  to  me,  Emilia; 
I  cannot  weep,  nor  answer  have  I  none 
But  what  should  go  by  water.    Prithee,  to- 
night 

Lay  on  my  bed  my  wedding  sheets :  remember ; 
And  call  thy  husband  hither. 
Emil.  Here 's  a  change  indeed! 

[Exit. 

Des.  'Tis  meet  I  should  be  used  so,  very  meet. 
How  have  I  been  behaved,  that  he  might  stick 
The  small'st  opinion  on  my  least  misuse  ? 

Re-enter  Emilia,  with  Iago. 

lago.  What  is  your  pleasure,  madam  ?  How  is 't 
with  you?  110 

Des.  I  cannot  tell.  Those  that  do  teach  young 
babes 

Do  it  with  gentle  means  and  easy  tasks : 

He  might  have  chid  me  so;  for,  in  good  faith, 

I  am  a  child  to  chiding. 

109.  "opinion";  suspicion. — C.  H.  H. 

"ieast  misuse";  O.  1,  "greatest  abuse";  Collier  MS.,  "least  mis- 
deede." — I.  G. 

125 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


lago.  What 's  the  matter.,  lady? 

Emil.  Alas,  lago,  my  lord  hath  so  bewhored  her, 

Thrown  such  despite  and  heavy  terms  upon  her, 

As  true  hearts  cannot  bear. 
Des.  Am  I  that  name,  lago? 

lago.  What  name,  f  air  lady  ? 

Des.  Such  as  she  says  my  lord  did  say  I  was.  119 
Emil.  He  call'd  her  whore:  a  beggar  in  his  drink 

Could  not  have  laid  such  terms  upon  his  callet. 
lago.  Why  did  he  so? 

Des.  I  do  not  know :  I  am  sure  I  am  none  such. 

lago.  Do  not  weep,  do  not  weep.    Alas  the  day! 

Emil.  Hath  she  forsook  so  many  noble  matches, 
Her  father  and  her  country  and  her  friends, 
To  be  call'd  whore?  would  it  not  make  one 
weep? 

Des.  It  is  my  wretched  fortune. 

lago.  Beshrew  him  for 't! 

How  comes  this  trick  upon  him? 
Des.  Nay,  heaven  doth  know. 

Emil.  I  will  be  hang'd,  if  some  eternal  villain,  130 

Some  busy  and  insinuating  rogue, 

Some  cogging,  cozening  slave,  to  get  some  office, 

Have  not  devised  this  slander;  I  '11  be  hang'd 
else. 

lago.  Fie,  there  is  no  such  man ;  it  is  impossible. 
Des.  If  any  such  there  be,  heaven  pardon  him! 
Emil.  A  halter  pardon  him!  and  hell  gnaw  his 
bones  ? 

Why  should  he  call  her  whore?  who  keeps  her 
company  ? 


126 


THE  MOOR 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 


What  place?  what  time?  what  form?  what  like- 
lihood? 

The  Moor's  abused  by  some  most  villainous 
knave, 

Some  base  notorious  knave,  some  scurvy  fellow. 

0  heaven,  that  such  companions  thou  'ldst  un- 

fold, 141 
And  put  in  every  honest  hand  a  whip 
To  lash  the  rascals  naked  through  the  world 
Even  from  the  east  to  the  west! 

lago.  Speak  within  door. 

Emil.  O,  fie  upon  them!    Some  such  squire  he  was 
That  turn'd  your  wit  the  seamy  side  without, 
And  made  you  to  suspect  me  with  the  Moor. 

Iago.  You  are  a  fool ;  go  to. 

Des.  O  good  lago, 

What  shall  I  do  to  win  my  lord  again? 
Good  friend,  go  to  him;  for,  by  this  light  of 
heaven,  150 

1  know  not  how  I  lost  him.  Here  I  kneel : 
If  e'er  my  will  did  trespass  'gainst  his  love 
Either  in  discourse  of  thought  or  actual  deed, 

144.  "Speak  within  door";  do  not  clamor  so  as  to  be  heard  beyond 
the  house.— H.  N.  H. 

153.  "discourse  of  thought"  probably  means  much  the  same  as 
"discourse  of  reason";  that  is,  discursive  range  of  thought.  See 
Hamlet,  Act  i.  sc.  2,  note  19. — The  phrase,  "discoursing  thoughts,"  is 
met  with  in  Sir  John  Davies'  Epigrams.  Pope  changed  "discourse 
of  thought"  to  "discourse,  or  thought,"  which  certainly  is  more  in 
accordance  with  the  solemn  and  impressive  particularity  of  the 
speaker's  asseveration  of  innocence.  The  change  has  also  been  ap- 
proved as  referring  to  the  three  forms  of  sin,  "by  thought,  word, 
and  deed,"  specified  in  the  old  catechisms  and  the  eucharistical  con- 
fession of  the  Church.  Nevertheless,  we  adhere  to  the  text  as  it 
stands  in  all  the  old  copies. — H.  N.  H. 

127 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


Or  that  mine  eyes,  mine  ears,  or  any  sense. 
Delighted  them  in  any  other  form, 
Or  that  I  do  not  yet,  and  ever  did, 
And  ever  will,  though  he  do  shake  me  off 
To  beggarly  divorcement,  love  him  dearly, 
Comfort  foreswear  me!    Unkindness  may  do 
much; 

And  his  unkindness  may  defeat  my  life,  160 
But  never  taint  my  love.   I  cannot  say  'whore' : 
It  doth  abhor  me  now  I  speak  the  word; 
To  do  the  act  that  might  the  addition  earn 
Not  the  world's  mass  of  vanity  could  make  me. 

lago.  I  pray  you,  be  content ;  'tis  but  his  humor : 
The  business  of  the  state  does  him  offense, 
And  he  does  chide  with  you. 

Des.  If  'twere  no  other, — 

lago.       'Tis  but  so,  I  warrant.  [Trumpets  within. 
Hark,  how  these  instruments  summon  to  sup- 
per! 

The  messengers  of  Venice  stay  the  meat :  17° 
Go  in,  and  weep  not ;  all  things  shall  be  well. 

{Exeunt  Desdemona  and  Emila. 

Enter  Roderigo. 

How  now,  Roderigo. 
Rod.  I  do  not  find  that  thou  dealest  justly  with 
me. 

lago.  What  in  the  contrary? 

170.  "The  messengers  of  Venice  stay  the  meat";  Knighfs  reading; 
F.  1,  "The  Messengers  of  Venice  states  the  meate" ;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "The 
Messenger  of  Venice  staies  the  meate";  Q.  1,  "And  the  great  Mes- 
sengers of  Venice  stay";  Qq.  2,  3,  "The  meate,  great  Messengers  of 
Venice  stay." — I.  G. 

128 


THE  MOOR 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 


Rod.  Every  day  thou  daff est  me  with  some  de- 
vice, Iago ;  and  rather,  as  it  seems  to  me  now, 
keepest  from  me  all  conveniency  than  sup- 
pliest  me  with  the  least  advantage  of  hope. 
I  will  indeed  no  longer  endure  it ;  nor  am  1 180 
yet  persuaded  to  put  up  in  peace  what  al- 
ready I  have  foolishly  suffered. 

Iago.  Will  you  hear  me,  Roderigo? 

Rod.  Faith,  I  have  heard  too  much;  for  your 
words  and  performances  are  no  kin  together. 

Iago.  You  charge  me  most  unjustly. 

Rod.  With  nought  but  truth.  I  have  wasted 
myself  out  of  my  means.  The  jewels  you 
have  had  from  me  to  deliver  to  Desdemona 
would  half  have  corrupted  a  votarist :  you  190 
have  told  me  she  hath  received  them  and  re- 
turned me  expectations  and  comforts  of  sud- 
den respect  and  acquaintance;  but  I  find 
none. 

Iago.  Well;  go  to;  very  well. 

Rod.  Very  well!  go  to!  I  cannot  go  to,  man; 
nor  'tis  not  very  well:  by  this  hand,  I  say 
'tis  very  scurvy,  and  begin  to  find  myself 
fopped  in  it. 

Iago.  Very  well.  200 
Rod.  I  tell  you  'tis  not  very  well.  I  will  make 
myself  known  to  Desdemona :  if  she  will  re- 
turn me  my  jewels,  I  will  give  over  my  suit 
and  repent  my  unlawful  solicitation;  if  not, 
assure  yourself  I  will  seek  satisfaction  of 
you. 

Iago.  You  have  said  now. 

XXV-9  m 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


Rod.  Aye,  and  said  nothing  but  what  I  protest 
intendment  of  doing. 

Iago.  Why,  now  I  see  there 's  mettle  in  thee ;  210 
and  even  from  this  instant  do  build  on  thee  a 
better  opinion  than  ever  before.  Give  me 
thy  hand,  Roderigo :  thou  hast  taken  against 
me  a  most  just  exception;  but  yet,  I  protest, 
I  have  dealt  most  directly  in  thy  afF air. 

Rod.  It  hath  not  appeared. 

Iago.  I  grant  indeed  it  hath  not  appeared,  and 
your  suspicion  is  not  without  wit  and  judg- 
ment. But,  Roderigo,  if  thou  hast  that  in 
thee  indeed,  which  I  have  greater  reason  to  220 
believe  now  than  ever,  I  mean  purpose,  cour- 
age and  valor,  this  night  show  it :  if  thou  the 
next  night  following  enjoy  not  Desdemona, 
take  me  from  this  world  with  treachery  and 
devise  engines  for  my  life. 

Rod.  Well,  what  is  it?  is  it  within  reason  and 
compass  ? 

Iago.  Sir,  there  is  especial  commission  come 
from  Venice  to  depute  Cassio  in  Othello's 
place. 

Rod.  Is  that  true?  why  then  Othello  and  Des-230 

demona  return  again  to  Venice. 
Iago.  O,  no ;  he  goes  into  Mauritania,  and  takes 

218.  "not  without  wit  and  judgment";  Shakespeare  knew  well  that 
most  men  like  to  be  flattered  on  account  of  those  endowments  in 
which  they  are  most  deficient.  Hence  Iago's  compliment  to  this 
snipe  on  his  sagacity  and  shrewdness  (Malone). — H.  N.  H. 

232.  "he  goes  into  Mauritania" ;  this  passage  proves,  so  far  as  any- 
thing said  by  Iago  may  be  believed,  that  Othello  was  not  meant  to 
be  a  Negro,  as  has  been  represented,  both  on  the  stage  and  off,  but 
a  veritable  Moor.    His  kindred,  the  Mauritanians, — from  whose  "men 

ISO 


THE  MOOR 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 


away  with  him  the  fair  Desdemona,  unless 
his  abode  be  lingered  here  by  some  accident : 
wherein  none  can  be  so  determinate  as  the 
removing  of  Cassio. 
Rod.  How  do  you  mean,  removing  of  himl 
la  go.  Why,   by  making   him   uncap  able  of 

Othello's  place ;  knocking  out  his  brains. 
Rod.  And  that  you  would  have  me  to  do?  240 
lago.  Aye,  if  you  dare  do  yourself  a  profit  and 
a  right.    He  sups  to-night  with  a  harlotry, 
and  thither  will  I  go  to  him :  he  knows  not  yet 
of  his  honorable   fortune.    If  you  will 
watch  his  going  thence,  which  I  will  fash- 
ion to  fall  out  between  twelve  and  one,  you 
may  take  him  at  your  pleasure:  I  will  be 
near  to  second  your  attempt,  and  he  shall 
fall  between  us.    Come,  stand  not  amazed 
at  it,  but  go  along  with  me ;  I  will  show  you  250 
such  a  necessity  in  his  death  that  you  shall 
think  yourself  bound  to  put  it  on  him.    It  is 
now  high  supper-time,  and  the  night  growi, 
to  waste :  about  it. 
Rod.  I  will  hear  further  reason  for  this. 
lago.  And  you  shall  be  satisfied.  [Exeunt. 

Of  royal  siege  he  fetched  his  life  and  being,"  and  among  whom  he 
was  about  to  retire,— though  apt  enough  to  be  confounded  with  the 
Negroes,  were  as  different  from  them,  externally,  as  brown  is  from 
black;  internally,  in  mind  and  character,  the  difference  was  far 
greater. — H.  N.  H. 

242.  "he  sups  with  a  harlotry";  Shakespeare  has  the  expression,  "a 
peevish  self-will'd  harlotry/'  in  two  other  plays— H.  N.  H. 


181 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


Scene  III 

Another  room  in  the  castle. 

Enter  Othello,  Lodovico,  Desdemona,  Emilia,  and 
Attendants. 

Lod.  I  do  beseech  you,  sir,  trouble  yourself  no  fur- 
ther. 

Oth.  O,  pardon  me;  'twill  do  me  good  to  walk. 
Lod.  Madam,  good  night;  I  humbly  thank  your 

ladyship. 
Des.  Your  honor  is  most  welcome. 
Oth.  Will  you  walk,  sir? 

O, — Desdemona, — 
Des.  My  lord? 

Oth.  Get  you  to  bed  on  the  instant;  I  will  be 
returned  forthwith:  dismiss  your  attendant 
there :  look  it  be  done. 
Des.  I  will,  my  lord.  10 
[Exeunt  Othello,  Lodovico,  and  Attendants. 
Emil.  How  goes  it  now?  he  looks  gentler  than  he 
did. 

Des.  He  says  he  will  return  incontinent : 
He  hath  commanded  me  to  go  to  bed, 
And  bade  me  to  dismiss  you. 

Emil.  Dismiss  me! 

Des.  It  was  his  bidding;  therefore,  good  Emilia. 
Give  me  my  nightly  wearing,  and  adieu : 

11.  "he  looks  gentler";  one  of  those  side  intimations  of  the  fluctua- 
tions of  passion,  which  we  seldom  meet  with  but  in  Shakespeare. 
He  has  here  put  into  half  a  line  what  some  authors  would  have  spun 
out  into  ten  set  speeches  (Hazlitt). — H.  N.  H. 

132 


THE  MOOR 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 


We  must  not  now  displease  him.  

Emil.  I  would  you  had  never  seen  him! 
Des.  So  would  not  I :  my  love  doth  so  approve  him, 
That  even  his  stubbornness,  his  checks,  his 
frowns, —  20 
Prithee,  unpin  me, — have  grace  and  favor  in 
them. 

Emil.  I  have  laid  those  sheets  you  bade  me  on  the 
bed. 

Des.  All 's  one.    Good  faith,  how  foolish  are  our 
minds !  ■» 
If  I  do  die  before  thee,  prithee,  shroud  me 
In  one  of  those  same  sheets. 
Emil.  Come,  come,  you  talk. 

Des.  My  mother  had  a  maid  call'd  Barbara: 

She  was  in  love ;  and  he  she  loved  proved  mad 
And  did  forsake  her:  she  had  a  song  of  'wil- 
low ;' 

An  old  thing  'twas,  but  it  express'd  her  fortune, 
And  she  died  singing  it :  that  song  to-night  30 
Will  not  go  from  my  mind ;  I  have  much  to  do 
But  to  go  hang  my  head  all  at  one  side 
And  sing  it  like  poor  Barbara.  Prithee,  dis- 
patch. 

Emil.  Shall  I  go  fetch  your  night-gown  ? 

Des.  No,  unpin  me  here. 

This  Lodovico  is  a  proper  man. 
Emil.  A  very  handsome  man. 

23.  "All's  one.  Good  faith";  Q.  1,  "All's  one  good  faith";  Qq.  2,  3, 
"All's  one;  good  father";  Ff.,  "All's  one:  good  Father."— I.  G. 

26.  "Barbara";  Qq.  read  "Barbary"  ;  F.  1,  "Barbarie." — I.  G. 

31.  "I  have  much  to  do";  that  is,  I  have  much  ado  to  do  any  thing, 
but  to  go,  &c.  To-do  was,  and  still  is,  often  used  thus  in  the  sense  of 
ado. — H.  N.  H. 

133 


Act  iv.  Sc.  iii.  OTHELLO 
Des.  He  speaks  well. 

Emil.  I  know  a  lady  in  Venice  would  have 
walked  barefoot  to  Palestine  for  a  touch  of 
his  nether  lip.  40 

Des.  [Singing]  The  poor  soul  sat  sighing  by  a 
sycamore  tree, 

Sing  all  a  green  willow; 
Her  hand  on  her  bosom,  her  head  on  her  knee, 

Sing  willow,  willow,  willow: 
The  fresh  streams  ran  by  her,  and  murmur'd 
her  moans ; 
Sing  willow,  willow,  willow; 
Her  salt  tears  fell  from  her,  and  soften'd  the 
stones  ;— 

Lay  by  these: — 

[Singing]  Sing  willow,  willow,  willow; 

Prithee,  hie  thee ;  he  '11  come  anon : —  50 

[Singing]  Sing  all  a  green  willow  must  be  my 
garland. 

Let  nobody  blame  him;  his  scorn  I  ap- 
prove,— 

Nay,  that 's  not  next.    Hark !  who  is 't  that 
knocks  ? 
Emil.  It 's  the  wind. 

41,  &c. ;  the  original  of  Desdemona's  song  is  to  be  found  in  Percys 
Reliques  under  the  title  of  "A  Lover's  Complaint,  being  forsaken  of 
his  Love,"  where  the  plaintive  lover  is  a  man. — I.  G. 

41.  "sighing";  Ff.,  "singing";  Q.  3,  "singhing";  F.  1,  (Dev.)  "sirir 
ing."—l.  G. 

\ 

1S4 


THE  MOOR 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 


Des.  [Singing]  I  call'd  my  love  false  love;  but 
what  said  he  then  ? 
Sing  willow,  willow,  willow: 
If  I  court  moe  women,  you  '11  couch  with  moe 
men !  60 

So  get  thee  gone;  good  night.    Mine  eyes  do 
itch ; 

Doth  that  bode  weeping? 
Emil.  'Tis  neither  here  nor  there. 

Des.  I  have  heard  it  said  so.    O,  these  men,  these 
men! 

Dost  thou  in  conscience  think, — tell  me,  Em- 
ilia,— 

That  there  be  women  do  abuse  their  husbands 

In  such  gross  kind? 
Emil.  There  be  some  such,  no  question. 

Des.  Wouldst  thou  do  such  a  deed  for  all  the 
world  ? 

Emil.  Why,  would  not  you? 

Des.  No,  by  this  heavenly  light! 

Emil.  Nor  I  neither  by  this  heavenly  light;  I 
might  do 't  as  well  i'  the  dark. 

Des.  Wouldst  thou  do  such  a  deed  for  all  the 
world  ?  ^ 

Emil.  The  world 's  a  huge  thing :  it  is  a  great 
price 
For  a  small  vice. 

Des.  In  troth,  I  think  thou  wouldst  not. 

Emil.  In  troth,  I  think  I  should;  and  undo 't  71 
when  I  had  done.    Marry,  I  would  not  do 
such  a  thing  for  a  joint-ring,  nor  for  meas- 
ures of  lawn,  nor  for  gowns,  petticoats,  nor 

Of  135 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 


OTHELLO 


caps,  nor  any  petty  exhibition;  but,  for  the 
whole  world, — why,  who  would  not  make  her 
husband  a  cuckold  to  make  him  a  monarch? 
I  should  venture  purgatory  for 't. 

Des.  Beshrew  me,  if  I  would  do  such  a  wrong 
for  the  whole  world.  80 

Emil.  Why,  the  wrong  is  but  a  wrong  i'  the 
world;  and  having  the  world  for  your  la- 
bor, 'tis  a  wrong  in  your  own  world,  and  you 
might  quickly  make  it  right. 

Des.  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  such  woman. 

Emil.  Yes,  a  dozen ;  and  as  many  to  the  vantage 
as  would  store  the  world  they  played  for. 
But  I  do  think  it  is  their  husband's  faults 
If  wives  do  fall:  say  that  they  slack  their  duties 
And  pour  our  treasures  into  foreign  laps,  90 
Or  else  break  out  in  peevish  jealousies, 
Throwing  restraint  upon  us,  or  say  they  strike 
us, 

Or  scant  our  former  having  in  despite, 
Why,  we  have  galls,  and  though  we  have  some 
grace, 

Yet  have  we  some  revenge.    Let  husbands 
know 

Their  wives  have  sense  like  them:  they  see  and 
smell 

And  have  their  palates  both  for  sweet  and  sour, 
As  husbands  have.    What  is  it  that  they  do 
When  they  change  us  for  others?    Is  it  sport? 
I  think  it  is:  and  doth  affection  breed  it?  100 
I  think  it  doth:  is 't  frailty  that  thus  errs? 
Tt  is  so  too:  and  have  not  we  affections, 

136 


THE  MOOR 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iiu 


Desires  for  sport,  and  frailty,  as  men  have? 
Then  let  them  use  us  well:  else  let  then  know, 
The  ills  we  do,  their  ills  instruct  us  so. 
Des.  Good  night,  good  night :  heaven  me  such  uses 
send, 

Not  to  pick  bad  from  bad  but  by  bad  mend ! 

[Exeunt*. 


Act  V.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


ACT  FIFTH 

Scene  I 

Cyprus.    A  street. 

Enter  I  a  go  and  Roderigo. 

Iago.  Here,  stand  behind  this  bulk;  straight  will 
he  come: 

Wear  thy  good  rapier  bare,  and  put  it  home : 
Quick,  quick;  fear  nothing;  I  '11  be  at  thy  el- 
bow: 

It  makes  us,  or  it  mars  us;  think  on  that, 
And  fix  most  firm  thy  resolution. 
Rod.  Be  near  at  hand;  I  may  miscarry  in 't. 
Iago.  Here,  at  thy  hand:  be  bold,  and  take  thy 
stand.  [Retires. 
Rod.  I  have  no  great  devotion  to  the  deed; 

And  yet  he  hath  given  me  satisfying  reasons: 
'Tis  but  a  man  gone.    Forth,  my  sword :  he  dies. 
Iago.  I  have  rubb'd  this  young  quat  almost  to  the 
sense,  11 
And  he  grows  angry.    Now,  whether  he  kill 
Cassio, 

Or  Cassio  him,  or  each  do  kill  the  other, 
Every  way  makes  my  gain:  live  Roderigo, 
He  calls  me  to  a  restitution  large 
Of  gold  and  jewels  that  I  bobb'd  from  him, 

138 


THE  MOOR 


Act  V.  Sc. 


As  gifts  to  Desdemona: 
It  must  not  be :  if  Cassio  do  remain, 
He  hath  a  daily  beauty  in  his  life 
That  makes  me  ugly ;  and  besides,  the  Moor  20 
May  unfold  me  to  him;  there  stand  I  in  much 
peril : 

No,  he  must  die.    Be 't  so.    I  hear  him  coming. 
Enter  Cassio. 

Rod.  I  know  his  gait ;  'tis  he.    Villain,  thou  diest  i 

[Makes  a  pass  at  Cassio. 
Cos.  That  thrust  had  been  mine  enemy  indeed, 
But  that  my  coat  is  better  than  thou  know'st: 
I  will  make  proof  of  thine. 

[Draws  and  wounds  Roderigo. 
Rod.  O,  I  am  slain! 

[lago  from  behind  wounds  Cassio  in  the  leg,  and 

exit. 

Cas.  I  am  maim'd  for  ever.    Help,  ho!  murder! 
murder !  [Falls. 

Enter  Othello. 

Oth.  The  voice  of  Cassio:  lago  keeps  his  word. 

Rod.  O,  villain  that  I  am! 

Oth.  It  is  even  so. 

Cas.  O,  help,  ho!  light!  a  surgeon!  30 

Oth.  'Tis  he.    O  brave  lago,  honest  and  just, 

That  hast  such  noble  sense  of  thy  friend's 
wrong ! 

Thou  teachest  me.  Minion,  your  dear  lies  dead, 
And  your  unblest  fate  hies:  strumpet,  I  come! 


Act  V.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


Forth  of  my  heart  those  charms,  thine  eyes,  are 
blotted: 

Thy  bed  lust-stain'd  shall  with  lust's  blood  be 
spotted.  [Exit. 

Enter  Lodovico  and  Gratiano. 

Cas.  What,  ho!  no  watch?  no  passage?  murder! 
murder ! 

Gra.  'Tis  some  mischance ;  the  cry  is  very  direful. 
Cas.  O,  help! 

Lod.  Hark!  40 
Rod.  O  wretched  villain! 

Lod.  Two  or  three  groan:  it  is  a  heavy  night: 

These  may  be  counterfeits:  let's  think 't  un- 
safe 

To  come  into  the  cry  without  more  help. 
Rod.  Nobody  come?  then  shall  I  bleed  to  death. 
Lod.  Hark! 

Re-enter  Iago,  with  a  light. 

Gra.  Here 's  one  comes  in  his  shirt,  with  light  and 
weapons. 

I  ago.  Who 's  there  ?  whose  noise  is  this  that  cries 

on  murder? 
Lod.  We  do  not  know. 

Iago.  Did  you  hear  a  cry?  49 

Cas.  Here,  here!  for  heaven's  sake,  help  me! 
Iago.  What 's  the  matter? 

Gra.  This  is  Othello's  ancient,  as  I  take  it. 
Lod.  The  same  indeed;  a  very  valiant  fellow. 
Iago.  What  are  you  here  that  cry  so  grievously  ? 


140 


THE  MOOR 


Act  V.  Sc.  i. 


Cas.  Iago.?    O,  I  am  spoil'd,  undone  by  villains! 

Give  me  some  help. 
Iago.  O  me,  lieutenant!  what  villains  have  done 
this?  x 

Cas.  I  think  that  one  of  them  is  hereabout, 

And  cannot  make  away. 
Iago.  O  treacherous  villains? 

What  are  you  there?  come  in  and  give  some 
help.  [To  Lodovico  and  Gratiano. 

Rod.  O,  help  me  here!  60 
Cas.  That 's  one  of  them. 

Iago.  O  murderous  slave !    O  villain ! 

[Stabs  Roderigo. 
Rod.  O  damn'd  Iago !    O  inhuman  dog ! 
Iago.  Kill  men  i'  the  dark !  Where  be  these  bloody 
thieves  ? 

How  silent  is  this  town!    Ho!  murder!  mur- 
der! 

What  may  you  be?  are  you  of  good  or  evil? 
Lod.  As  you  shall  prove  us,  praise  us. 
Iago.  Signior  Lodovico? 
Lod.  He,  sir. 

Iago.  I  cry  you  mercy.    Here 's  Cassio  hurt  by 
villains. 

Gra.  Cassio!  70 
Iago.  How  is 't,  brother? 
Cas.  My  leg  is  cut  in  two. 

Iago.  Marry,  heaven  forbid! 

Light,  gentlemen:  I  '11  bind  it  with  my  shirt. 

Enter  Bianca. 

Bian.  What  is  the  matter,  ho?  who  is 't  that  cried? 

141 


Act  V.  Sc.  i. 


OTHELLO 


lago.  Who  is 't  that  cried! 

Bian.  O  my  dear  Cassio!  my  sweet  Cassio!  O 

Cassio,  Cassio,  Cassio! 
lago,  O  notable  strumpet!    Cassio,  may  you  sus- 
pect 

Who  they  should  be  that  have  thus  mangled 

you? 

Cos.  No.  80 
Gra.  I  am  sorry  to  find  you  thus:  I  have  been  to 
seek  you. 

lago.  Lend  me  a  garter.    So.    O,  for  a  chair, 

To  bear  him  easily  hence ! 
Bian.  Alas,  he  faints!    O  Cassio,  Cassio,  Cassio! 
Iago.  Gentlemen  all,  I  do  suspect  this  trash 

To  be  a  party  in  this  injury. 

Patience  awhile,  good  Cassio.    Come,  come; 

Lend  me  a  light.    Know  we  this  face  or  no? 

Alas,  my  friend  and  my  dear  countryman 

Roderigo?  no: — yes,  sure:  O  heaven!  Roder- 
igo.  90 
Gra.  What,  of  Venice? 
Iago.  Even  he,  sir:  did  you  know  him? 
Gra.  Know  him !  aye. 

Iago.  Signior  Gratiano?    I  cry  you  gentle  pardon ; 

These  bloody  accidents  must  excuse  my  man- 
ners, 

That  so  neglected  you. 
Gra.  I  am  glad  to  see  you. 

Iago.  How  do  you,  Cassio?    O,  a  chair,  a  chair? 
Gra.  Roderigo! 

82-83;  omitted  in  Q.  1.— I.  G. 


142 


THE  MOOR 


Act  V.  Sc.  i. 


I  ago.  He,  he,  'tis  he.    [A  chair  brought  in.]  O, 

that 's  well  said ;  the  chair : 
Some  good  man  bear  him  carefully  from  hence; 
I  '11  fetch  the  general's  surgeon.    [To  Bianco] 

For  you,  mistress,  100 
Save  you  your  labor.    He  that  lies  slain  here, 

Cassio, 

Was  my  dear  friend:  what  malice  was  between 
you? 

Cas.  None  in  the  world ;  nor  do  I  know  the  man. 
I  ago.  [To  Bian.]  What,  look  you  pale?  O,  bear 
him  out  o'  the  air. 

[Cassio  and  Roderigo  are  borne  off. 
Stay  you^  good  gentleman.    Look  you  pale, 
mistress  ? 

Do  you  perceive  the  gastness  of  her  eye? 
Nay,  if  you  stare,  we  shall  hear  more  anon. 
Behold  her  well;  I  pray  you,  look  upon  her: 
Do  you  see,  gentlemen?  nay,  guiltiness  will 
speak, 

Though  tongues  were  out  of  use.  110 

Enter  Emilia. 

Emil.  'Las,  what 's  the  matter  ?  what 's  the  matter, 
husband? 

Iago.  Cassio  hath  here  been  set  on  in  the  dark 
By  Roderigo,  and  fellows  that  are  'scaped: 
He 's  almost  slain,  and  Roderigo  dead. 

Emil.  Alas?  good  gentlemen!  alas,  good  Cassio! 

105.  "gentlemen,"  the  reading  of  Ff.;  Qq.,  "Gentlewoman." — I.  G. 
107.  uif  you  stare";  so  Ff. ;  Qq.  1,  2,  "an  you  stirre";  Q.  3,  "an  you 
stirr";  Anon.  conj.  "if  you  stay." — I.  G. 


143 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


lago.  This   is  the   fruit  of  whoring.  Prithee, 
Emilia, 

Go  know  of  Cassio  where  he  supp'd  to-night. 
What,  do  you  shake  at  that? 
Bian.  He  supp'd  at  my  house;  but  I  therefore 
shake  not. 

lago.  O,  did  he  so?  I  charge  you,  go  with  me.  120 

Emit.  Fie,  fie  upon  thee,  strumpet! 

Bian.  I  am  no  strumpet ;  but  of  life  as  honest 

As  you  that  thus  abuse  me. 
Emil.  As  I !  f  oh !  fie  upon  thee ! 

lago.  Kind  gentlemen,  let 's  go  see  poor  Cassio 
dress'd. 

Come,  mistress,  you  must  tell 's  another  tale. 
Emilia,  run  you  to  the  citadel, 
And  tell  my  lord  and  lady  what  hath  happ'd! 
Will  you  go  on?  I  pray.  [Aside]  This  is  the 
night 

That  either  makes  me  or  fordoes  me  quite. 

\Exeunt% 

Scene  II 

A  bedchamber  in  the  castle:    Desdemona  in  bed 
asleep;  a  light  burning. 

Enter  Othello. 

Oth.  It  is  the  cause,  it  is  the  cause,  my  soul : 
Let  me  not  name  it  to  you,  you  chaste  stars ! 

2.  11  yon,  chaste  stars";  Steevens  informs  us  there  is  "no  classical 
authority"  for  " chaste  stars."  Very  likely;  but  then  Othello  has 
"authority"  as  good,  perhaps,  as  "classical,"  in  the  supposed  un- 
chastity  of  his  wife,  which  is  "the  cause"  of  his  present  purpose,  and 

144 


THE  MOOR 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


It  is  the  cause.    Yet  I  '11  not  shed  her  blood, 

Nor  scar  that  whiter  skin  of  hers  than  snow 

And  smooth  as  monumental  alabaster. 

Yet  she  must  die,  else  she  '11  betray  more  men. 

Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  the  light : 

If  I  quench  thee,  thou  flaming  minister, 

I  can  again  thy  former  light  restore, 

Should  I  repent  me :  but  once  put  out  thy  light, 

Thou  cunning'st  pattern  of  excelling  nature,  H 

I  know  not  where  is  that  Promethean  heat 

That  can  thy  light  relume.    When  I  have 

pluck'd  the  rose, 
I  cannot  give  it  vital  growth  again, 
It  must  needs  wither :  I  '11  smell  it  on  the  tree. 

[Kissing  her. 

which  the  purity  of  the  stars  withholds  him  from  naming  in  their 
presence.    No  classical  authority! — H.  N.  H. 

7.  "Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  the  light";  i.  e.  "put  out 
the  light,  and  then  put  out  the  light  of  life."  The  Cambridge  Editors 
give  some  dozen  variant  methods  of  punctuating  and  reading  the 
line,  but  it  is  perfectly  clear  as  it  stands. — I.  G. 

The  present  regulation  of  this  passage,  by  which  so  much  beauty 
and  spirit  is  added  to  it,  was  proposed  by  Mr.  Upton,  but  it  is  to  be 
found  in  Ayres's  Life  of  Pope;  it  may  therefore  have  originated 
with  Warburton,  who  thus  explains  it:  "The  meaning  is,  I  will  put 
out  the  light,  and  then  proceed  to  the  execution  of  my  purpose.  But 
the  expression  of  putting  out  the  light  bringing  to  mind  the  effects 
of  the  extinction  of  the  light  of  life,  he  breaks  short,  and  questions 
himself  about  the  effects  of  this  metaphorical  extinction,  introduced 
by  a  repetition  of  his  first  words,  as  much  as  to  say, — But  hold,  let 
me  first  weigh  the  reflection  which  this  expression  naturally  excites." 
Dr.  Farmer  treats  this  as  a  refinement  of  Warburton's,  observing 
that  to  put  Out  the  light  was  a  phrase  for  to  kill.  "Broken  sen- 
tences," says  Mr.  Boswell,  "are  very  much  in  our  Poet's  manner, 
and  are  surely  natural  in  the  perturbed  state  of  Othello's  mind. 
I  am  unwilling  to  persuade  myself  that  a  regulation  of  the  text 
which  contains  so  much  beauty  could  be  merely  the  refinement  of  a 
critic,  and  that  our  great  author,  in  one  of  his  most  highly-wrought 
scenes,  instead  of  it,  intended  nothing  but  a  cold  conceit." — H.  N.  H. 
XXV— 10  145 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


Ah,  balmy  breath,  that  dost  almost  persuade 
Justice  to  break  her  sword!    One  more,  one 
more : 

Be  thus  when  thou  art  dead,  and  I  will  kill  thee, 
And  love  thee  after:  one  more,  and  this  the  last: 
So  sweet  was  ne'er  so  fatal.  I  must  weep,  -  20 
But  they  are  cruel  tears :  this  sorrow 's 
heavenly ; 

It  strikes  where  it  doth  love.    She  wakes. 
Des.  Who's  there?  Othello? 
Oth.  ,  Aye,  Desdemona. 

Des.  Will  you  come  to  bed,  my  lord? 
Oth.  Have  you  pray'd  to-night,  Desdemona? 
Des.  Aye,  my  lord. 

Oth.  If  you  bethink  yourself  of  any  crime 

Unreconciled  as  yet  to  heaven  and  grace, 

Solicit  for  it  straight. 
Des.  Alas,  my  lord,  what  may  you  mean  by  that? 
Oth.  Well,  do  it,  and  be  brief;  I  will  walk  by:  30 

I  would  not  kill  thy  unprepared  spirit ; 

No ;  heaven  for  fend !    I  would  not  kill  thy  soul. 
Des.  Talk  you  of  killing? 
Oth.  Aye,  I  do. 

Des.  Then  heaven  have  mercy  on  me ! 
Oth.  Amen,  with  all  my  heart ! 
Des.  If  you  say  so,  I  hope  you  will  not  kill  me. 
Oth.  Hum! 

Des.  And  yet  I  fear  you;  for  you  are  fatal  then 
When  your  eyes  roll  so:  why  I  should  fear  I 
know  not, 

Since  guiltiness  I  know  not;  but  yet  I  feel  I 
fear. 

146 


THE  MOOR 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


Oth.  Think  on  thy  sins. 

Des.  They  are  loves  I  bear  to  you.  40 

Oth.  Aye,  and  for  that  thou  diest. 

Des.  That  death 's  unnatural  that  kills  for  loving. 

Alas,  why  gnaw  you  so  your  nether  lip  ? 

Some  bloody  passion  shakes  your  very  frame: 

These  are  portents ;  but  yet  I  hope,  I  hope, 

They  do  not  point  on  me. 
Oth.  Peace,  and  be  still! 

Des.  I  will  so.    What 's  the  matter  ? 
Oth.  That  handkerchief  which  I  so  loved  and  gave 
thee 

Thou  gavest  to  Cassio. 
Des.  No,  by  my  life  and  soul!  49 

Send  for  the  man,  arid  ask  him. 
Oth.  Sweet  soul,  take  heed, 

Take  heed  of  perjury;  thou  art  on  thy  death- 
bed. 

Des.  Aye,  but  not  yet  to  die. 

Oth.  Yes,  presently: 

Therefore  confess  thee  freely  of  thy  sin; 
For  to  deny  each  article  with  oath 
Cannot  remove  nor  choke  the  strong  conception 
That  I  do  groan  withal.    Thou  art  to  die. 

Des.  Then  Lord  have  mercy  on  me ! 

Oth.  I  say,  amen. 

Des.  And  have  you  mercy  too !    I  never  did 
Offend  you  in  my  life;  never  loved  Cassio 
But  with  such  general  warranty  of  heaven  60 
As  I  might  love :  I  never  gave  him  token. 

Oth.  By  heaven,  I  saw  my  handkerchief  in 's  hand. 
O  perjured  woman !  thou  dost  stone  my  heart, 
147 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


And  makest  me  call  what  I  intend  to  do 
A  murder,  which  I  thought  a  sacrifice : 
I  saw  the  handkerchief. 


Des. 


He  found  it  then; 


I  never  gave  it  him :  send  for  him  hither ; 
Let  him  confess  a  truth. 


Oth. 
Des. 
Oth. 
Des. 
Oth. 
Des. 
Oth. 


.  Aye. 

'.  He  will  not  say  so. 


'.  What,  my  lord? 
.  That  he  hath  used  thee. 


No,  his  mouth  is  stopp'd ; 


He  hath  confess'd. 


How?  unlawfully? 


70 


Honest  Iago  hath  ta'en  order  for 't. 
Des.  O,  my  fear  interprets!  what,  is  he  dead? 
Oth.  Had  all  his  hairs  been  lives,  my  great  revenge 

Had  stomach  for  them  all. 
Des.  Alas,  he  is  betray'd,  and  I  undone ! 
Oth.  Out,  strumpet!  weep'st  thou  for  him  to  my 


Des.  O,  banish  me,  my  lord,  but  kill  me  not! 
Oth.  Down,  strumpet ! 

Des.  Kill  me  to-morrow ;  let  me  live  to-night !  80 
Oth.  Nay,  if  you  strive, — 
Des.  But  half  an  hour ! 

65.  "which  I  thought  a  sacrifice";  some  editors  have  managed  to 
stumble  at  this  passage.  The  language  is  indeed  compressed,  but  the 
meaning  seems  clear  enough.  Othello  goes  about  the  killing  of  his 
wife  as  an  act  of  religion,  and  he  fears  lest  her  perjury  may  excite 
his  anger,  and  so  corrupt  the  deed  into  an  act  of  revenge.  This  is 
Johnson's  explanation:  "Thou  hardenest  my  heart,  and  makest  me 
kill  thee  with  the  rage  of  a  murderer,  when  I  thought  to  have  sacri- 
ficed thee  to  justice  with  the  calmness  of  a  priest  striking  a  victim." 
—The  quarto  of  1622  reads,  "thou  dost  stone  thy  heart."— H.  N.  H. 


face? 


148 


THE  MOOR 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii: 


Oth.  Being  done,  there  is  no  pause. 

Des.  But  while  I  say  one  prayer! 
Oth.  It  is  too  late.  [He  stifles  her. 

Emil.  [Within]  My  lord,  my  lord!  what,  ho!  my 

lord,  my  lord ! 
Oth.  What  noise  is  this?    Not  dead?  not  yet  quite 

dead? 

I  that  am  cruel  am  yet  merciful; 

I  would  not  have  thee  linger  in  thy  pain: 

So,  so. 

Emil.  [Within]  What,  ho!  my  lord,  my  lord! 
Oth.  Who's  there? 

Emil.  [Within]  O,  good  my  lord,  I  would  speak  a 
word  with  you!  90 
Oth.  Yes :  'tis  Emilia.    By  and  by.    She 's  dead. 
'Tis  like  she  comes  to  speak  of  Cassio's  death. 
The  noise  was  here.    Ha!  no  more  moving? 
Still  as  the  grave.    Shall  she  come  in?  were 't 
good  ? 

I  think  she  stirs  again.    No.    What 's  best  to 
do? 

If  she  come  in,  she  '11  sure  speak  to  my  wife : 
My  wife !  my  wife !  what  wife  ?    I  have  no  wife. 

82.  "there  is  no  pause";  omitted  in  Q.  1. — I.  G. 

Othello  regards  the  act  as  done,  when  the  conflict  between  his  love 
and  honor  is  fully  over,  his  resolution  finally  taken,  and  his  hand 
raised  to  strike.  To  admit  any  pause  in  such  a  case,  were  but  to 
prolong  the  suffering  of  the  victim. — H.  N.  H. 

88.  "So,  so" ;  at  these  words,  the  Othello  of  the  stage  is  made  to 
stab  Desdemona.  There  is  no  such  direction  in  any  of  the  old  copies; 
but  still  the  stage-custom  may  be  right;  as,  in  the  agony  of  the 
moment,  and  in  his  desire  "not  to  have  her  linger  in  her  pain," 
Othello's  resolution  not  to  shed  her  blood  might  be  overcome.  It 
seems  more  natural,  too,  that  Desdemona  should  speak  after  being 
stabbed,  than  after  being  smothered  to  death. — H.  N.  H. 

149 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


O,  insupportable!    O  heavy  hour! 

Methinks  it  should  be  now  a  huge  eclipse 

Of  sun  and  moon,  and  that  the  affrighted  globe 

Should  yawn  at  alteration.  100 
Emil.  [Within]  I  do  beseech  you 

That  I  may  speak  with  you,  O,  good  my  lord! 
Oth.  I  had  forgot  thee :  O,  come  in,  Emilia. 

Soft;  by  and  by.    Let  me  the  curtains  draw. 

Where  art  thou ?  [Unlocks  the  door. 

Enter  Emilia. 

What 's  the  matter  with  thee  now? 
Emil.  O,  my  good  lord,  yonder 's  foul  murders 

done! 
Oth.  What,  now? 
Emil.  But  now,  my  lord. 
Oth.  It  is  the  very  error  of  the  moon; 

She  comes  more  nearer  earth  than  she  was  wont 

And  makes  men  mad.  m 
Emil.  Cassio,  my  lord,  hath  kill'd  a  young  Venetian 

Call'd  Roderigo. 
Oth.  Roderigo  kill'd! 

And  Cassio  kill'd! 

Emil.  ^   No,  Cassio  is  not  kill'd. 

Oth.  Not  Cassio  kill'd!  then  murder 's  out  of  tune, 

And  sweet  revenge  grows  harsh. 
Des.  O,  falsely,  falsely  murder'd! 
Emil.  Alas,  what  cry  is  that? 

Oth.  That!  what? 

Emil.  Out,  and  alas !  that  was  my  lady's  voice. 
Help!  help,  ho!  help!    O  lady,  speak  again!  120 

100.  "yawn";  as  if  in  bewildered  wonder. — C.  H.  H. 

150 


THE  MOOR 


Act  V.  Sc.  fti 


Sweet  Desdemona!    O  sweet  mistress,  speak! 
Des.  A  guiltless  death  I  die. 
Emil.  O,  who  hath  done  this  deed? 
Des.  Nobody;  I  myself.  Farewell: 

Commend  me  to  my  kind  lord:  O,  farewell! 

[Die, 

Oth.  Why,  how  should  she  be  murder'd? 
Emil.  Alas,  who  knows? 

Oth.  You  heard  her  say  herself,  It  was  not  I. 
Emil.  She  said  so :    I  must  needs  report  the  truth. 
Oth.  She 's  like  a  liar  gone  to  burning  hell: 

'Twas  I  that  kill'd  her. 
Emil.  O,  the  more  angel  she,  130 

And  you  the  blacker  devil ! 
Oth.  She  turn'd  to  folly,  and  she  was  a  whore. 
Emil.  Thou  dost  belie  her,  and  thou  art  a  devil. 
Oth.  She  was  false  as  water. 

Emil.  Thou  art  rash  as  fire,  to  say 

That  she  was  false:  O,  she  was  heavenly  true! 

Oth.  Cassio  did  top  her ;  ask  thy  husband  else. 
O,  I  were  damn'd  beneath  all  depth  in  hell, 
But  that  I  did  proceed  upon  just  grounds 
To  this  extremity.    Thy  husband  knew  it  all. 

Emil.  My  husband! 

Oth.  Thy  husband.  140 

Emil.  That  she  was  false  to  wedlock? 

Oth.  Aye,  with  Cassio.    Nay,  had  she  been  true, 
If  heaven  would  make  me  such  another  world 
Of  one  entire  and  perfect  chrysolite, 
I  'Id  not  have  sold  her  for  it. 

Emil.  My  husband! 

Oth.  Aye,  'twas  he  that  told  me  first : 

151 


N 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


An  honest  man  he  is,  and  hates  the  slime 
That  sticks  on  filthy  deeds. 
Emil.  My  husband! 

Oth.  What  needs  this  iteration,  woman?  I  sav  thy 
husband.  150 
Emil.  O  mistress,  villainy  hath  made  mocks  with 
love ! 

My  husband  say  that  she  was  false ! 
Oth.  He,  woman ; 

I  say  thy  husband:  dost  understand  the  word? 

My  friend,  thy  husband,  honest,  honest  Iago. 
Emil.  If  he  say  so,  may  his  pernicious  soul 

Rot  half  a  grain  a  day!  he  lies  to  the  heart: 

She  was  too  fond  of  her  most  filthv  bargain. 
Oth.  Ha! 

Emil.  Do  thy  worst: 

This  deed  of  thine  is  no  more  worthy  heaven  160 
Than  thou  wast  worthy  her. 

Oth.  Peace,  you  were  best. 

Emil.  Thou  hast  not  half  that  power  to  do  me  harm 
As  I  have  to  be  hurt.    O  gull !  O  dolt ! 
As  ignorant  as  dirt !  thou  hast  done  a  deed — 
I  care  not  for  thy  sword;  I  '11  make  thee  known, 
Though  I  lost  twenty  lives.    Help!  help,  ho! 
help! 

The  Moot  hath  kill'd  my  mistress!  Murder! 
murder ! 

Enter  Montana,  Gratiano,  Iago,  and  others. 
31  on.  What  is  the  matter?    How  now,  general! 

151.  "made  mocks  icifh  lore";  "taken  advantage  to  plar  upon  the 
weakness  of  passion*'  (Johnson). — I.  G. 

152 


THE  MOOR 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


Emil.  O,  are  you  come,  lago?  you  have  done  well, 
That  men  must  lay  their  murders  on  your  neck, 
r  Gra.  What  is  the  matter?  17] 

Emil.  Disprove  this  villain,  if  thou  be'st  a  man : 
He  says  thou  toldst  him  that  his  wife  was  false: 
I  know  thou  didst  not,  thou  'rt  not  such  a  villain. 
Speak,  for  my  heart  is  full. 

lago.  I  told  him  what  I  thought,  and  told  no  more 
Than  what  he  found  himself  was  apt  and  true. 

Emil.  But  did  you  ever  tell  him  she  was  false? 

lago.  I  did. 

Emil.  You  told  a  lie,  an  odious,  damned  lie;  180 
Upon  my  soul,  a  lie,  a  wicked  lie! 
She  false  with  Cassio!    Did  you  say  with 
Cassio? 

lago.  With  Cassio,  mistress.    Go  to,  charm  your 
tongue. 

Emil.  I  will  not  charm  my  tongue;  I  am  bound  to 
speak : 

My  mistress  here  lies  murder' d  in  her  bed, — 
All.  O  heavens  forfend! 

Emil.  And  your  reports  have  set  the  murder  on. 
Oth.  Nay,  stare  not,  masters :  it  is  true  indeed. 
Gra.  JTis  a  strange  truth. 
Mon.  O  monstrous  act! 

Emil.  Villainy,  villainy,  villainy !  190 

I  think  upon 't :  I  think :  I  smell 't :  O  villainy ! 
I  thought  so  then:  I  '11  kill  myself  for  grief: 
O  villainy,  villainy! 

172.  "Disprove  this  villain";  Capell,  "Disprove  it,  villain.'* — I.  G. 
185,  193;  omitted  in  Q.  1.— I.  G. 

192.  "I  thought  so  then";  that  is,  when  she  gave  Desdemona's  hand- 
kerchief to  lago:  for  even  then  Emilia  appears  to  have  suspected  it 
was  sough'  after  for  no  honest  purpose. — H.  N.  H. 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


lago.  What,  are  you  mad?    I  charge  you,  get  you 
home. 

Emil.  Good  gentlemen,  let  me  have  leave  to  speak : 

'Tis  proper  I  obey  him,  but  not  now. 

Perchance,  lago,  I  will  ne'er  go  home. 
Oth.  O!    O!    O!  [Falling  on  the  bed. 

Emil.  Nay,  lay  thee  down  and  roar ; 

For  thou  hast  kill'd  the  sweetest  innocent 

That  e'er  did  lift  up  eye. 
Oth.  [Rising']  O,  she  was  foul!  200 

I  scarce  did  know  you,  uncle:  there  lies  your 
niece, 

Whose  breath  indeed  these  hands  have  newly 
stopp'd: 

I  know  this  act  shows  horrible  and  grim. 
Gra.  Poor  Desdemona !    I  am  glad  thy  father 's 
dead: 

Thy  match  was  mortal  to  him,  and  pure  grief 
Shore  his  old  thread  in  twain :  did  he  live  now, 
This  sight  would  make  him  do  a  desperate  turn, 
Yea,  curse  his  better  angel  from  his  side, 
And  fall  to  reprobation. 
Oth.  'Tis  pitiful;  but  yet  lago  knows  210 
That  she  with  Cassio  hath  the  act  of  shame 
A  thousand  times  committed;  Cassio  confess'd 
it: 

212.  "thousand  times"  is  evidently  put  for  an  indefinite  number, 
or,  as  Steevens  remarks,  "an  aggravated  term  for  many  times." 
Still  the  expression  infers  a  good  deal  as  to  the  space  of  time  oc- 
cupied by  the  play.  We  have  already  seen  that  a  considerable  period 
must  have  elapsed  after  the  arrival  in  Cyprus  before  the  end  of  Act 
iii.  Near  the  close  of  the  third  scene  in  Act  iii.,  the  Moor  says  to 
lago, — "Within  these  three  days  let  me  hear  thee  say,  that  Cassio's 
not  alive."    We  may  presume  this  period  to  have  elapsed  between 

154 


THE  MOOR 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


And  she  did  gratify  his  amorous  works 
With  that  recognizance  and  pledge  of  love 
Which  I  first  gave  her;  I  saw  it  in  his  hand: 
It  was  a  handkerchif,  an  antique  token 
My  father  gave  my  mother. 

Emit.  O  heaven!    O  heavenly  powers ! 

lago.  'Zounds !  hold  your  peace. 

Emit,  'Twill  out,  'twill  out.    I  peace! 

No,  I  will  speak  as  liberal  as  the  north :  220 
Let  heaven  and  men  and  devils,  let  them  all, 
All,  all,  cry  shame  against  me,  yet  I  '11  speak. 

lago.  Be  wise,  and  get  you  home. 

Emil.  I  will  not. 

[i ago  offers  to  stab  Emilia. 

Gra.        ,  Fie! 
Your  sword  upon  a  woman ! 

Emil.  O  thou  dull  Moor!  that  handkerchief  thou 
speak'st  of 

I  found  by  fortune  and  did  give  my  husband; 

For  often  with  a  solemn  earnestness, 

More  than  indeed  belong'd  to  such  a  trifle, 

He  begg'd  of  me  to  steal  it. 
Iago.  Villainous  whore ! 

Emil.  She  give  it  Cassio!  no,  alas,  I  found  it,  230 

And  I  did  give 't  my  husband. 

Act  iii.  and  Act  v.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  Othello  may  suppose  the 
wickedness  between  his  wife  and  Cassio  to  have  been  in  progress 
before  his  marriage,  when  Cassio  "came  a-wooing  with  him."  This, 
of  course,  would  greatly  aggravate  her  otfense  in  his  eye,  by  causing 
the  marriage  to  seem  designed  on  her  part  but  as  a  cover  for  her 
guilty  indulgence.  The  play  may  be  cited  as  a  very  remarkable 
instance  of  unity  of  interest  making  us  irrespective  of  time;  for 
until  one  goes  into  a  critical  scrutinizing  of  the  scenes  for  that  pur- 
pose, he  never  thinks  but  that  the  catastrophe  occurs  on  the  second 
night  after  the  landing  in  Cyprus. — H.  N.  H. 

155 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


Iago.  Filth,  thou  liest ! 

Emil.  By  heaven,  I  do  not,  I  do  not,  gentlemen. 

O  murderous  coxcomb!  what  should  such  a  fool 

Do  with  so  good  a  wife? 
Oth.  Are  there  no  stones  in  heaven 

But  what  serve  for  the  thunder?    Precious  vil- 
lain! 

[He  runs  at  Iago :  Iago,  from  behind ,  stabs 
Emilia  and  exit. 

Gra.  The  woman  falls;  sure,  he  hath  khTd  his  wife. 
Emil.  Aye,  aye:  O,  lay  me  by  my  mistress'  side. 
Gra.  He  s  gone,  but  his  wife 's  khTd. 
Mon.  'Tis  a  notorious  villain.    Take  you  this 
weapon, 

Which  I  have  here  recover'd  from  the  Moor:  240 

Gome,  guard  the  door  without ;  let  him  not  pass, 

But  kill  him  rather.    I  '11  after  that  same  villain, 

For  'tis  a  damned  slave. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Othello  and  Emilia. 
Oth.  I  am  not  valiant  neither, 

But  every  puny  whipster  gets  my  sword. 

But  why  should  honor  outlive  honesty  ? 

Let  it  go  all. 
Emil.  What  did  thy  song  bode,  lady? 

Hark,  canst  thou  hear  me?    I  will  play  the 
swan, 

235.  "no  stones  in  heaven";  that  is,  "no  bolts  but  what  serve  for  the 
thunder."  We  have  before  had  "thunder-^one"  for  thunder-6o/£. 
See  Cymbeline,  Act  iv.  sc.  2. — H.  N.  H. 

239.  "notorious  villain" ;  strictly  speaking,  Iago  was  not  a  notorious 
villain,  as  his  villainy  had  not  been  known.  Probably  the  meaning 
is,  worthy  to  be  notorious.    See  Act  iv.  sc.  2. — H.  N.  H. 


156 


THE  MOOE 


Act  V.  Sc. 


And  die  in  music.    [Singing]  Willow,  willow, 
willow. 

Moor,  she  was  chaste;  she  loved  thee,  cruel 
Moor; 

So  come  my  soul  to  bliss,  as  I  speak  true;  250 
So  speaking  as  I  think,  I  die,  I  die.  [Dies. 

Oth.  I  have  another  weapon  in  this  chamber; 
It  is  a  sword  of  Spain,  the  ice-brook'st  temper. — 
O,  here  it  is.    Uncle,  I  must  come  forth. 

Gra.  [Within]  If  thou  attempt  it,  it  will  cost  thee 
dear: 

Thou  hast  no  weapon,  and  perforce  must  suffer. 
Oth.  Look  in  upon  me  then,  and  speak  with  me, 
Or,  naked  as  I  am,  I  will  assault  thee. 

Re-enter  Gratiano 

Gra.  What  is  the  matter? 

Oth.  Behold,  I  have  a  weapon ; 

A  better  never  did  itself  sustain  260 
Upon  a  soldier's  thigh :  I  have  seen  the  day 
That  with  this  little  arm  and  this  good  sword 
I  have  made  my  way  through  more  impediments 
Than  twenty  times  your  stop :  but,  O  vain  boast ! 
Who  can  control  his  fate?  'tis  not  so  now. 
Be  not  afraid,  though  you  do  see  me  weapon'd; 
Here  is  my  journey's  end,  here  is  my  butt 
And  very  sea-mark  of  my  utmost  sail. 
Do  you  go  back  dismay 'd?  'tis  a  lost  fear: 
Man  but  a  rush  against  Othello's  breast,  270 
And  he  retires.    Where  should  Othello  go? 

266-272;  omitted  in  Q.  1.— I.  G. 


157 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


Now,  how  dost  thou  look  now?  O  ill-starr'd 
wench ! 

Pale  as  thy  smock !  when  we  shall  meet  at  compt, 
This  look  of  thine  will  hurl  my  soul  from 
heaven, 

And  fiends  will  snatch  at  it.    Cold,  cold,  my 
girl! 

Even  like  thy  chastity.    O  cursed  slave! 
Whip  me,  ye  devils, 

From  the  possession  of  this  heavenly  sight ! 
Blow  me  about  in  winds!  roast  me  in  sulphur! 
Wash  me  in  steep-down  gulfs  of  liquid  fire!  280 
O  Desdemona!    Desdemona!  dead! 
Oh!  Oh!  Oh! 

Enter  Lodovico,  Montana,  Cassio  carried  in  a  chair, 
and  Officers  with  I  ago,  prisoner. 

Lod.  Where  is  this  rash  and  most  unfortunate 
man? 

Oth.  That 's  he  that  was  Othello:  here  I  am. 
Lod.  Where  is  that  viper?  bring  the^illain  forth. 
Oth.  I  look  down  towards  his  feet ;  but  that 's  a 
fable. 

If  that  thou  be'st  a  devil,  I  cannot  kill  thee. 

[Wounds  lago. 

Lod.  Wrench  his  sword  from  him. 
lago.  I  bleed,  sir,  but  not  kill'd. 

Oth.  I  am  not  sorry  neither :  I  'Id  have  thee  live ; 
For,  in  my  sense,  'tis  happiness  to  die.  290 

286.  "I  look  down  towards  his  feel";  alluding  to  the  devil's  cloven 
feet.  Othello  looks  down  towards  Iago's  feet,  to  see  if  he  has  that 
sign  of  being  a  devil,  but  then  concludes  that  he  may  be  just  as 
much  a  devil  without  it. — H.  N.  H. 

158 


/ 

THE  MOOR 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


Lod.  O  thou  Othello,  that  wert  once  so  good, 

Fall'n  in  the  practice  of  a  damned  slave, 

What  shall  be  said  to  thee? 
Oth.  Why,  any  thing: 

An  honorable  murderer,  if  vou  will; 

For  nought  did  I  in  hate,  but  all  in  honor. 
Lod.  This  wretch  hath  part  confess'd  his  villainy: 

Did  you  and  he  consent  in  Cassio's  death? 
Oth.  Aye.  / 

Cas.  Dear  general,  I  never  gave  you  cause. 

Oth.  I  do  believe  it,  and  I  ask  your  pardon.  300 
Will  fou,  I  pray,  demand  that  demi-devil 
Why  he  hath  thus  ensnared  my  soul  and  body? 

lago.  Demand  me  nothing;  what  you  know,  you 
know: 

From  this  time  forth  I  never  will  speak  word. 
Lod.  What,  not  to  pray? 

Gra.  Torments  will  ope  your  lips. 

Oth.  Well,  thou  dost  best. 

Lod.  Sir,  you  shall  understand  what  hath  befall'n, 
Which,  as  I  think,  you  know  not.    Here  is  a 
letter 

Found  in  the  pocket  of  the  slain  Roderigo, 
And  here  another :  the  one  of  them  imports  310 
The  death  of  Cassio  to  be  undertook 
By  Roderigo. 
Oth.  O  villain! 

Cas.  Most  heathenish  and  most  gross! 

Lod.  Now  here 's  another  discontented  paper, 
Found  in  his  pocket  too ;  and  this,  it  seems, 
Roderigo  meant  to  have  sent  this  damned  vil- 
lain ; 

159 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


But  that,  belike,  Iago  in  the  interim 
Came  in  and  satisfied  him. 

Oth.  O  the  pernicious  caitiff! 

How  came  you,  Cassio,  by  that  handkerchief 
That  was  my  wife's? 

Cas.  I  found  it  in  my  chamber:  320 

And  he  himself  confess'd  but  even  now 
That  there  he  dropp'd  it  for  a  special  purpose 
Which  wrought  to  his  desire. 

Oth.  O  fool!  fool!  fool! 

Cas.  There  is  besides  in  Roderigo's  letter, 
How  he  upbraids  Iago,  that  he  made  him 
Brave  me  upon  the  watch ;  whereon  it  came 
That  I  was  cast :  and  even  but  now  he  spake 
After  long  seeming  dead,  Iago  hurt  him, 
Iago  set  him  on. 

Lod.  You  must  forsake  this  room,  and  go  with  us: 
Your  power  and  your  command  is  taken  off,  331 
And  Cassio  rules  in  Cyprus.    For  this  slave, 
If  there  be  any  cunning  cruelty 
That  can  torment  him  much  and  hold  him  long, 
It  shall  be  his.    You  shall  close  prisoner  rest, 
Till  that  the  nature  of  your  f  ault  be  known 
To  the  Venetian  state.    Come,  bring  away. 

Oth.  Soft  you;  a  word  or  two  before  you  go. 

I  have  done  the  state  some  service,  and  they 
know 't. 

No  more  of  that.  I  pray  you,  in  your  letters, 
When  you  shall  these  unlucky  deeds  relate,  341 
Speak  of  me  as  I  am;  nothing  extenuate, 

337.  "bring  away";  Qq.,  "bring  him  away";  Collier  MS.,  "bring 
them  away" — I.  G. 

160 


/ 

THE  MOOR 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 


Nor  set  down  aught  in  malice:  then  must  you 
speak 

Of  one  that  loved  not  wisely  but  too  well; 
Of  one  not  easily  jealous,  but,  being  wrought, 
Perplex'd  in  the  extreme;  of  one  whose  hand, 
Like  the  base  Indian,  threw  a  pearl  away 
Richer  than  all  his  tribe ;  of  one  whose  subdued 
eyes, 

Albeit  unused  to  the  melting  mood, 
Drop  tears  as  fast  as  the  Arabian  trees  350 
Their  medicinal  gum.    Set  you  down  this; 
And  say  besides,  that  in  Aleppo  once, 
Where  a  malignant  and  a  turban'd  Turk 
Beat  a  Venetian  and  traduced  the  state, 
I  took  by  the  throat  the  circumcised  dog 
And  smote  him,  thus.  [Stabs  himself. 

Lod.  O  bloody  period ! 

Gra.  All  that 's  spoke  is  marr'd. 

Oth.  I  kiss'd  thee  ere  I  khTd  thee :  no  way  but  this, 
Killing  myself,  to  die  upon  a  kiss. 

[Falls  on  the  bed,  and  dies. 

347.  "Indian";  F.  1,  "Iudean";  Theobald  proposed  "Judian,"  add- 
ing, "I  am  satisfied  in  his  Judian  he  is  alluding  to  Herod,  who,  in  a 
fit  of  blind  jealosie.  threw  away  such  a  jewel  of  a  wife  as  Mariamne 
was  to  him."  This  interpretation  was  Warburton's.  "This  it  is,"  as 
Coleridge  put  it,  "for  no-poets  to  comment  on  the  greatest  of  poets ! 
To  make  Othello  say  that  he,  who  had  killed  his  wife,  was  like  Herod 
who  had  killed  Mariamne!"  Boswell  aptly  quotes  from  Habington's 
C  as  tar  a: — 

"So  the  unskilful  Indian  those  bright  gems 
Which  might  add  majesty  to  diadems, 
'Mong  the  waves  scatters/' — I.  G. 

350.  "Arabian  trees";  the  acacia  Arabica. — C.  H.  H. 
352.  "in  Aleppo  once";  it  is  said  to  have  been  immediate  death 
for  a  Christian  to  strike  a  Turk  in  Aleppo. — H.  N.  H. 
XXV— 11  161 


Ac:  V.  Sc.  ii. 


OTHELLO 


Cas.  This  did  I  fear,  but  thought  he  had  no 

weapon ;  360 

For  he  was  great  of  heart. 
Lod.  [To  I  ago]  O  Spartan  dog, 

More  fell  than  anguish,  hunger,  or  the  sea! 

Look  on  the  tragic  loading  of  this  bed; 

This  is  thy  work:  the  object  poisons  sight; 

Let  it  be  hid.    Gratiano,  keep  the  house, 

And  seize  upon  the  fortunes  of  the  Moor 

For  they  succeed  on  you.    To  you,  lord  gov- 
ernor, 

Remains  the  censure  of  this  hellish  villain, 
The  time,  the  place,  the  torture:  O,  enforce  it! 
Myself  will  straight  aboard,  and  to  the  state  370 
This  heavy  act  with  heavy  heart  relate. 

[Exeunt, 


169 


GLOSSARY 


By  Israel  Golxancz,  M.A. 


Abhor;  "it  doth  a.  me,"  it  is  ab- 
horrent to  me;  IV,  ii.  162. 

About,  out;  I.  ii.  46. 

Abuse,  deceive;  I.  iii.  407. 

Abused,  deceived;  I.  i.  175. 

Abuser,  corrupter;  I.  ii.  78. 

Achieved,  won;  II.  i.  61. 

Acknown  non't,  confess  any 
knowledge  of  it;  III.  iii.  319. 

Act,  action,  working;  III.  iii. 
338. 

Action,  accusation;  I.  iii.  70. 

Addiction,  inclination;  II.  ii.  7. 

Addition,  honor;  III.  iv.  191. 

Advantage;  "in  the  best  a.",  at 
the  most  favorable  opportu- 
nity; I.  iii.  299. 

Advised,  careful;  I.  ii.  55. 

Advocation,  advocacy;  III.  iv. 
120. 

Affined,  bound  by  any  tie;  I.  i. 
39. 

Affinity,  connections;  III.  i.  49. 
Agnize,  confess  with  pride;  I.  iii. 
233. 

Aim,  conjecture;  I.  iii.  6. 

All  in  all,  wholly,  altogether; 

IV.  i.  90. 
Allowance;  "and  your  a.,"  and 

has  your  permission;  I.  i.  129. 
Allowed,   acknowledged;   I.  iii. 

225. 

All's  one,  very  well;  IV.  iii.  23. 
Almain,  German;  II.  iii.  87. 
Ancient,  ensign;   (F.  1,  "Aun- 
tieni")\  I.  i.  33. 


Anthropophagi,  cannibals;  (Qq., 
"Anthropophagie" ;  F.  1,  "An- 
tropophague")  ;  I.  iii.  144. 

Antres,  caverns;  I.  iii.  140. 

Apart,  aside;  II.  iii.  400. 

Approve,  prove,  justify;  II.  iii. 
65. 

 ,  love,  adore;  IV.  iii.  19. 

Approved,  proved  to  have  been 

involved;  II.  iii.  214. 
Apt,  natural;  II.  i.  304. 
Arraigning,   accusing;    III.  iv. 

149. 

Arrivance,  arrival;  (Ff.,  "Ar- 
rivancy"  or  "Arrivancie")  ;  II. 
i.  42. 

As,  as  if;  III.  iii.  77. 
Aspics,  venomous  snakes;  III.  iii. 
450. 

Assay,  a  test;  I.  iii.  18. 
Assay,  try;  II.  i.  121. 
Assure  thee,  be  assured;  III.  iii. 
20. 

At,  on;  I.  ii.  42. 
Atone,  reconcile;  IV.  i.  244. 
Attach,  arrest;  I.  ii.  77. 
Attend,  await;  III.  iii.  281. 

Bauble,  fool,  (used  contemptu- 
ously); IV.  i.  139. 

Bear,  the  Constellation  so  called; 
II.  i.  14. 

Bear  out,  get  the  better  of;  II. 
i.  19. 

Beer;  "small  beer,"  small  ac- 
counts, trifles;  II.  i.  163. 


163 


Glossary 


OTHELLO 


Be-lee'd,  placed  on  the  lee;  (Q. 

I.  "be  led") ;  L  i.  30. 
Beshrew  me,  a  mild  assevera- 
tion; III.  iv.  147. 

Besort,  what  is  becoming;  L  iii. 
240. 

Best;  "were  b.",  had  better;  I. 

ii.  30. 

Bestow,  place;  III.  i.  57. 

Betimes,  early;  I.  iii.  3S9. 

Bid  "good  morrow,"  alluding  to 
the  custom  of  friends  bidding 
good  morrow  by  serenading  a 
newly  married  couple  on  the 
morning  after  their  marriage; 
III.  i.  2. 

Birdlime,  lime  to  catch  birds; 

II.  i.  127. 

Black,  opposed  to  "fair";  III. 

iii.  263. 

Blank,  the  white  mark  in  the 
center  of  the  butt,  the  aim; 

III.  iv.  125. 

Blazoning,  praising;  II.  i.  63. 
Blood,  anger,  passion;  II.  iii.  208. 
Blown,  empty,  puffed  out;  III. 
iii.  182. 

Bobb'd,  got  cunningly;  V.  i.  16. 
Boding,  foreboding,  ominous;  IV. 
i.  22. 

Bootless,  profitless;  L  iii.  209. 

Brace,  state  of  defense;  (prop- 
erly, armor  to  protect  the 
arm)  ;  I.  iii.  24. 

Brave,  defy;  V.  ii.  326. 

Bravery,  bravado,  defiance;  I.  i. 
100. 

Bring  on  the  way,  accompany; 
III.  iv.  194. 

Bulk,  the  projecting  part  of  a 
shop  on  which  goods  were  ex- 
posed for  sale;  V.  i.  1. 

Butt,  goal,  limit;  V.  ii.  267. 

By,  aside;  V.  ii.  30. 

 ,  "how  you  say  by,"  what 

say  you  to;  I.  iii.  17. 

3y  and  by,  presently;  II,  iii.  316. 

1 


Cable;  "give  him  c",  give  him 
scope;  I.  ii.  17. 

Caitiff,  thing,  wretch;  a  term 
of  endearment;  IV.  i.  110. 

Callet,  a  low  woman;  IV.  ii.  121. 

CaEm'd,  becalmed,  kept  from  mo- 
tion; I.  i.  30. 

Canakin,  little  can;  II.  iii.  72. 

Capable,  ample;  III.  iii.  459- 

Carack,  large  ship,  galleon;  I.  ii. 
50. 

Caroused,  drunk;  II.  iii.  56. 
Carve   for,   indulge ;    (Q.  1, 

"carve  forth") ;  II.  iii.  176. 
Case,    matter;    (Ff.,  "cause"); 

III.  iii.  4. 
Cast,  dismissed,  degraded  from 

office;  V.  ii.  327. 
Censut.e,  judgment;  II.  iii.  196. 

 ,  opinion;  IV.  i.  280. 

Certes,  certainly;  I.  i.  16. 
Challenge,  claim;  I.  iii.  188. 
Chamberers,     effeminate  men; 

III.  iii.  265. 
Chances,  events;  I.  iii.  134. 
Charm,  make  silent,  restrain;  V. 

ii.  183. 

Charmer,  enchantress,  sorceress; 
III.  iv.  57. 

Cherubin,  cherub;  IV.  ii.  62. 

Chidden,  chiding,  making  an  in- 
cessant noise;  II.  i.  12. 

Chide,  quarrel;  IV.  ii.  167. 

Chuck,  a  term  of  endearment; 
III.  iv.  49. 

Circumscription,  restraint;  I.  ii. 
27. 

Circumstance,  circumlocution;  I. 
i.  13. 

 ,  appurtenances;  III.  iii.  354. 

Circumstanced,  give  way  to  cir- 
cumstances; III.  iv.  198. 

Civtl,  civilized;  IV.  i.  66. 

Clean,  entirely,  altogether;  I.  iii 
371. 

Clime,  country;  III.  iii.  230. 
Clip,  embrace:  J II.  iii.  464. 


THE  MOOR 


Glossary 


Clog,  encumber;  (Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "en- 
clogge")  ;  II.  i.  70. 

Close,  secret;  III.  iii.  123. 

"Close  as  oAK"="close  as  the 
grain  of  oak";  III.  iii.  210. 

Clyster-pipes,  tubes  used  for  in- 
jection; II.  i.  181. 

Coat,  coat  of  mail;  V.  i.  25. 

Cogging,  deceiving  by  lying;  IV. 

ii.  132. 

Collied,  blackened,  darkened;  II. 

iii.  209. 

Coloquiktida,  colocynth,  or  bit- 
ter apple;  I.  iii.  359. 

Commoner,  harlot;  IV.  ii.  72. 

Companions,  fellows;  (used  con- 
temptuously); IV.  ii.  141. 

Compasses,  annual  circuits;  III. 

iv.  71. 

Compliment    extern,  external 

show;  I.  i.  63. 
Composition,  consistency;  I.  iii. 

1. 

Compt,  reckoning,  day  of  reck- 
oning; V.  ii.  273. 

Conceit,  idea;  thought;  (Q.  1, 
"counsell")  ;  III.  iii.  115. 

Conceits,  conceives,  judges;  III. 
iii.  149. 

Condition,  temper,  disposition ; 
II.  i.  262. 

Confine,  limit;  I.  ii.  27. 

Conjunctive,  closely  united;  (Q. 
1,  "  communicatee" ;  Q.  2,  "con- 
jectiue")  ;  I.  iii.  380. 

Conjured,  charmed  by  incanta- 
tions; I.  iii.  105. 

Conscionable,  conscientious ;  II. 
i.  248. 

Consent  in,  plan  together;  V.  ii. 
297. 

Consequence,  that  which  follows 

or  results;  II.  iii.  65. 
Conserved,  preserved ;  (Q.  1, 

" conserues" ;  Q.  2,  "concerue")  ; 

III  iv.  75. 


Consuls,  senators ;  (Theobald, 
"Couns'lers" ;  Hanmer,  "coun- 
sel") ;  I.  ii.  43. 

Content,  joy;  II.  i.  188. 

 ,  satisfy,  reward;  III.  i.  1. 

Content  you,  be  satisfied,  be 
easy;  I.  i.  41. 

Continuate,  continual,  uninter- 
rupted; (Q.  1,  "conuenient") ; 
III.  iv.  175. 

Contrived,  plotted,  deliberate;  I. 
ii.  3. 

Conveniences,  comforts;  II.  i. 
240. 

Converse,  conversation;  III.  i.  40. 
Cope,  meet;  IV.  i.  88. 
Corrigible,  corrective;  I.  iii.  330. 
Counselor,    prater;  (Theobald, 

"censurer") ;  II.  i.  167. 
C  o  u  n  t  e  r-caster,  accountant 

(used  contemptuously) ;   1.  i. 

31. 

Course,    proceeding;    (Q.  1, 

"cause") ;  II.  i.  284. 
 ,  run;  (Q.  1,  "make") ;  III. 

iv.  71. 

Court  and  guard  of  safety, 
"very  spot  and  guarding  place 
of  safety";  (Theobald,  "court 
of  guard  and  safety")  ;  II.  iii. 
219. 

Court  of  guard,  the  main  guard- 
house; II.  i.  223. 

Courtship,  civility,  elegance  of 
manners;  (Q.  1,  "courtesies") ; 
II.  i.  174. 

Coxcomb,  fool;  V.  ii.  233. 

Cozening,  cheating;  IV.  ii 
132. 

Crack,  breach;  II.  iii.  338. 
Creation,  nature;  II.  i.  64. 
Cries  on,  cries  out;  (Ff.  2,  3,  4, 

"cries  out")  ;  V.  i.  48. 
Critical,  censorious;  II.  i.  120. 
Crusadoes,  Portuguese  gold  coins ; 

so  called  from  the  cross  on 

li 


Glossary 


OTHELLO 


them  (worth  between  six  and 
seven  shillings);  III.  iv.  26. 

Cry,  pack  of  hounds;  II.  iii.  379. 

Cunning,  knowledge;  III.  iii.  49. 

Curled,  having  hair  formed  into 
ringlets,  hence,  affected,  fop- 
pish; I.  ii.  68. 

Customer,  harlot;  IV.  i.  121. 

Daffest,  dost  put  off;  (Collier, 
"daff'st";  Qq.,  "dofftst";  F.  1, 
"dafts");  IV.  ii.  175. 

Danger;  "hurt  to  danger,"  dan- 
gerously hurt,  wounded;  II.  iii. 
200. 

Darlings,  favorites;  I.  ii.  68. 

Daws,  jack-daws;  I.  i.  65. 

Dear,  deeply  felt;  I.  iii.  261. 

Dearest,  most  zealous;  I.  iii.  85. 

Debitor  and  creditor,  "the  title 
of  certain  ancient  treatises  on 
bookkeeping;  here  used  as  a 
nick-name"  (Clarke)  ;  I.  i.  31. 

Defeat,  destroy;  IV.  ii.  160. 

 ,  disfigure;  I.  iii.  348. 

Defend,  forbid;  I.  iii.  268. 

Delations,  accusations;  III.  iii. 
123. 

Delighted,  delightful;  I.  iii.  291. 

Deliver,  say,  relate;  II.  iii.  222. 

Demand,  ask;  V.  ii.  301. 

Demerits,  merits;  I.  ii.  22. 

Demonstrable;  "made  d.",  dem- 
onstrated, revealed;  III.  iv.  139. 

Denotement,  denoting;  II.  iii. 
329. 

Deputing,  substituting;  IV.  i. 
248. 

Designment,  design;  II.  i.  22. 
Desired;  "well  d.",  well  loved,  a 

favorite;  II.  i.  209. 
Despite,  contempt,  aversion;  IV. 

ii.  116. 

Determinate,  decisive;  IV.  ii. 
235. 

Devesting,  divesting;  II.  iii.  184. 


Diablo,  the  Devil;  II.  iii.  164. 

Diet,  feed;  II.  i.  311. 

Dilate,  relate  in  detail,  at 
length;  I.  iii.  153. 

Directly,  in  a  direct  straight- 
forward way;  IV.  ii.  215. 

Discontented,  full  of  dissatis- 
faction; V.  ii.  314. 

Discourse  of  thought,  faculty 
of  thinking,  range  of  thought; 
IV.  ii.  153. 

Dislikes,  displeases;  II.  iii.  50. 

Displeasuue  ;  "your  d.",  the  dis- 
favor you  have  incurred;  III. 

i.  45. 

Disports,  sports,  pastimes;  i.  iii. 
273. 

Dispose,  disposition;  I.  iii.  409. 

Disprove,  refute;  V.  ii.  172. 

Disputed  on,  argued,  investi- 
gated; I.  ii.  75. 

Distaste,  be  distasteful;  III.  iii. 
327. 

Division,  arrangement;  I.  i.  23. 
Do,  act;  I.  iii.  402. 
Dotage,  affection  for;  IV.  i.  27. 
Double,  of  two- fold  influence;  I. 

ii.  14. 

Double  set,  go  twice  round ;  II. 

iii.  138. 

Doubt,  suspicion;  III.  iii.  188. 

 ,  fear;  III.  iii.  19. 

Dream,  expectation,  anticipation; 
II.  iii.  65. 

Ecstasy,  swoon;  IV.  i.  81. 
Elements,  a  pure  extract,  the 

quintessence;  II.  iii.  60. 
Embay'd,  land-locked;  II.  i.  18. 
Encave,  hide,  conceal;  IV.  i.  83. 
Enciiafed,  chafed,  angry;  II.  i. 

17. 

Engage,  pledge;  III.  iii.  462. 
Engines,    devices,  contrivances,; 

(?)  instruments  of  torture;  I\. 

ii.  225. 


THE  MOOR 


Glossary 


Engluts,  engulfs,  swallows  up;  I. 

iii.  57. 

Enshelter'd,  sheltered;  II.  i.  18. 

Ensteep'd,  steeped,  lying  con- 
cealed under  water;  (Q.  1,  "en- 
scerped")  ;  II.  i.  70. 

Entertainment,  re-engagement 
in  the  service;  III.  iii.  250. 

Enwheel,  encompass,  surround; 

II.  i.  87. 

Equinox,  counterpart;  II.  iii. 
132. 

Erring,  wandering;  III.  iii. 
227. 

Error,    deviation,    irregularity ; 

V.  ii.  109. 
Escape,  escapade,  wanton  freak; 

I.  iii.  197. 
Essential,  real;  II.  i.  64. 
Estimation,    reputation;    I.  iii. 

276. 

Eternal,  damned  (used  to  ex- 
press abhorrence) ;  IV.  ii.  130. 

Ever-fixed,  fixed  for  ever;  (Qq., 
"ever-fired") ;  II.  i.  15. 

Execute,  to  wreak  anger;  II.  iii. 
231. 

Execution,    working;    III.  iii. 

...66. 

Exercise,  religious  exercise;  III. 

iv.  41. 

Exhibition,  allowance;  I.  iii.  239. 

Expert,  experienced;  II.  iii.  84. 

Expert  and  approved  allowance, 
acknowledged  and  proved  abil- 
ity; II.  i.  49. 

Exsufflicate,  inflated,  unsub- 
stantial; (Qq.,  Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "ex- 
ufflicate" ;  F.  4,  "exufflicated") ; 

III.  iii.  182. 

Extern,  external;  I.  i.  63. 

Extincted,  extinct;  (Ff.  3,  4, 
"extinctest" ;  Rowe,  "extin- 
guish'd");  II.  i.  81. 

Extravagant,  vagrant,  wander- 
ing; I.  i.  138. 

7  f  1 


Facile,  easy;  I.  iii.  22. 
Falls,  lets  fall;  IV.  i.  256. 
Fantasy,  fancy;  III.  iii.  299. 
Fashion,    conventional  custom; 

II.  i.  211. 

Fast,  faithfully  devoted;  I.  iii. 
374. 

Fathom,  reach,  capacity;  I.  i. 
154. 

Favor,  countenance,  appearance: 

III.  iv.  122. 

Fearful,  full  of  fear;  I.  iii.  12. 
Fell,  cruel;  V.  ii.  362. 
Filches,  pilfers,  steals;  III.  iii. 
159. 

Filth,  used  contemptuously;  V. 

ii.  231. 

Fineless,  without  limit,  bound- 
less; III.  iii.  173. 

Fitchew,  pole-cat;  (used  con- 
temptuously) ;  IV.  i.  149. 

Fits,  befits;  III.  iv.  147. 

Fleers,  sneers;  IV.  i.  84. 

Flood,  sea;  I.  iii.  135. 

Flood-gate,  rushing,  impetuous ; 
I.  iii.  56. 

Folly,  unchastity;  V.  ii.  132. 

Fond,  foolish;  I.  iii.  321. 

Fopped,  befooled,  duped;  IV.  ii. 
199. 

For,  because;  (Ff.,  "when");  I. 

iii.  270. 

Forbear,  spare;  I.  ii.  10. 
Fordoes,  destroys;  V.  i.  129. 
Forfend,  forbid;  V.  ii.  32. 
Forgot;  "are  thus  f.",  have  so 

forgotten  yourself;  II.  iii.  191. 
Forms    and     visages,  external 

show,  outward  appearance;  I. 

i.  50. 

Forth  of,  forth  from,  out  of; 

(F.  1,  "For  of";  Ff.  2,  3,  4, 

"For  off")  ;  V.  i.  35. 
Fortitude,  strength;  I.  iii.  222. 
Fortune,  chance,  accident;  V.  ii. 

226. 


Glossary 


OTHELLO 


Framed,  moulded,  formed;  I.  iii. 
410. 

Fbaught,  freight,  burden;  III. 
iii.  449. 

Free,  innocent,  free  from  guilt; 

III.  iii.  255. 

 ,  liberal;  I.  iii.  267. 

Frights,  terrifies;  II.  iii.  178. 

Frize,  a  kind  of  coarse  woolen 
stuff;  II.  i.  127. 

From,  contrary  to;  I.  i.  133. 

Fruitful,  generous;  II.  iii.  355. 

Full,  perfect;  II.  i.  36. 

Function,  exercise  of  the  facul- 
ties; II.  iii.  362. 

Fustian  ;  "discourse  f .",  talk  rub- 
bish; II.  iii.  287. 

Galls,  rancor,  bitterness  of  mind  ; 

IV.  iii.  94. 

Garb,  fashion,  manner;  II.  i.  323. 
Garxer'd,  treasured;  IV.  ii.  57. 
Gastxess,  ghastliness;  (Qq.  1,  2, 

"ieastures";  Q.  3,  "gestures" ; 

Q.    1687,   "gestures"',  Knight, 

"ghastness")  ;  V.  i.  106. 
Gender,  kind,  sort;  I.  iii  328. 
Generous,  noble;  III.  iii.  280. 
Give  away,  give  up;  III.  iii.  28. 
Goverxmext,    self-control ;  III. 

iii.  256. 

Gradation,  order  of  promotion; 
I.  i.  37. 

Grange,  a  solitary  farm-house; 
I.  i.  106. 

Green,  raw,  inexperienced;  II.  i. 
258. 

Grise,  step;  I.  iii.  200. 

Gross  in  sexse,  palpable  to  rea- 
son; I.  ii.  72. 

Guardage,  guardianship;  I.  ii.  70. 

Guards,  guardians;  ("alluding  to 
the  star  Arctophylax,"  (John- 
son) ;  II.  i.  15. 

Guinea-hen,  a  term  of  contempt 
for  a  woman;  I.  iii.  318. 

1 


Gyve,  fetter,  ensnare;  II.  i.  173. 

Habits,     appearances,  outward 

show;  I.  iii.  108. 
Haggard,  an  untrained  wild 

hawk;  III.  iii.  260. 
Hales,  hauls,  draws;  IV.  i.  142. 
Haply,  perhaps;  II.  i.  288. 
Happ'd,  happened,  occurred;  V. 

i.  127. 

Happiness,  good  luck;   III.  iv. 
108. 

Happy;  "in  h.  time,"  at  the  right 

moment;  III.  i.  32. 
Hard  at  hand,  close  at  hand; 

(Qq.,  "hand  at  hand") ;  II.  i. 

275. 

Hardness,  hardship;  I.  iii.  235. 
Haste-post-haste,     very  great 

haste;  I.  ii.  37. 
Have  with  you,  I'll  go  with  you; 

I.  ii.  53. 

Having,    allowance,    (?)  "pin- 

money";  IV.  iii.  93. 
Hearted,   seated   in   the  heart; 

III.  iii.  448. 
Heavy,  sad;  V.  ii.  371. 
 ;    "a    h.    night,"    a  thick 

cloudy  night;  V.  i.  42. 
Heat,  urgency;  I.  ii.  40. 
Helm,  helmet;  I.  iii.  274. 
Herself,  itself;  I.  iii.  96. 
Hie,  hasten;  IV.  iii.  50. 
High  suppertime,  high  time  for 

supper;  IV.  ii.  253. 
Hint,  subject,  theme;  I.  iii.  142. 
Hip;  "have  on  the  h.",  catch  at 

an    advantage,     (a    term  in 

wrestling) ;  II.  i.  322. 
Hold,   make   to   linger;   V.  ii. 

334. 

Home,  to  the  point;  II.  i.  168. 
Honesty,  becoming;  IV.  i.  288. 
Hoxey,  sweetheart;  II.  i.  209. 
Horologe,  clock;  II.  iii.  138. 
Housewife,  hussy;  IV.  i.  95. 


THE  MOOR 


Glossary 


Hungerly,  hungrily;  III.  iv.  102. 

Hurt;  "to  be  h.",  to  endure  be- 
ing hurt;  V.  ii.  163. 

Hydiia,  the  fabulous  monster 
with  many  heads;  II.  iii.  314. 

Ice-brook's  temper,  i.  e.  a  sword 
tempered  in  the  frozen  brook; 
alluding  to  the  ancient  Spanish 
custom  of  hardening  steel  by 
plunging  red-hot  in  the  rivu- 
let Salo  near  Bilbilis;  V.  ii. 
252. 

Idle,  barren;  I.  iii.  140. 
Idleness,  unproductiveness,  want 

of  cultivation;  I.  iii.  329. 
Import,  importance;  III.  iii.  316. 
Importancy,  importance;  I.  iii. 

20. 

In,  on;  I.  i.  138. 

Inclining,    favorably  disposed; 

II.  iii.  354. 
Incontinent,  immediately;  IV. 

iii.  12. 

Incontinently,  immediately;  I. 
iii.  307. 

Index,  introduction,  prologue;  II. 
i.  270. 

Indign,  unworthy;  I.  iii.  275. 
Indues,  affects,  makes  sensitive; 

(Q.  3,  "endures" ;  Johnson  conj. 

"subdues") ;  III.  iv.  143. 
Ingener,  inventor  (of  praises) ; 

II.  i.  65. 
Ingraft,  ingrafted;  II.  iii.  147. 
Inhibited,  prohibited,  forbidden; 

I.  ii.  79. 

In  jointed  them,  joined  them- 
selves; I.  iii.  35. 

Injuries;  "in  your  i.",  while  do- 
ing injuries;  II.  i.  112. 

Inordinate,  immoderate;  II.  iii. 
317. 

Intendment,  intention;  IV.  ii. 
209. 

Intentively,  with  unbroken  at- 


tention; (F.  1,  "instinctiuely" : 
Ff.    2,    3,    4,  "distinctively" 
Gould  conj.  " connective! y" )  ;  I. 
iii.  155. 

Invention,  mental  activity;  IV. 
i.  200. 

Issues,  conclusions;  III.  iii.  219. 
Iteration,  repetition;  V.  ii.  150. 

Janus,   the   two-headed  Roman 

God;  I.  ii.  33. 
Jesses,  straps  of  leather  or  silk, 

with  which  hawks  were  tied  by 

the  leg  for  the  falconer  to  hold 

her  by;  III.  iii.  261. 
Joint-ring,  a  ring  with  joints  in 

it,   consisting  of  two  halves; 

a  lover's  token;  IV.  iii.  73. 
Jump,  exactly;  II.  iii.  401. 

 ,  agree;  I.  iii.  5. 

Just,  exact;  I.  iii.  5. 

Justly,  truly  and  faithfully;  I. 

iii.  124. 

Keep  up,  put  up,  do  not  draw; 
I.  ii.  59. 

Knave,  servant;  I.  i.  45. 

Knee-crooking,  fawning,  obse- 
quious; I.  i.  45. 

Know  of,  learn  from,  find  out 
from;  V.  i.  117. 

Lack,  miss;  III.  iii.  318. 
Law-days,   court-days;    III.  iii. 
140. 

Leagued,  connected  in  friend- 
ship; (Qq.,  Ff.,  "league") ;  II. 
iii.  221. 

Learn,  teach;  I.  iii.  183. 

Learned,  intelligent;  III.  iii.  259, 

Leets,  days  on  which  courts  are 
held;  III.  iii.  140. 

Levels,  is  in  keeping,  is  suitable; 
I.  iii.  241. 

Liberal,  free,  wanton;  II.  i.  167. 

Lies,  resides;  III.  iv.  2. 


Glossary 


OTHELLO 


Like,  equal;  II.  i.  16. 

Lingered,  prolonged;  IV.  ii.  234. 

List,  boundary;  "patient  L",  the 

bounds  of  patience;  IV.  i.  77. 
 ,  inclination;  (Ff.,  Qq.  2,  3, 

"leaue") ;  II.  i.  105. 

 ,  Listen  to,  hear;  II.  i.  2-2-2. 

LmxG,  real,  valid;  III.  iii.  409. 
Lost,  groundless,  vain;  V.  ii.  269. 
Lown,  lout,  stupid,  blockhead; 

II.  iii.  97. 


Magniftco,   a   title   given  to  a 

Venetian  grandee;  L  ii.  12. 
Maidhood,  maidenhood;  I.  i.  174. 
Main,  sea,  ocean;  II.  i.  3. 
Make  away,  get  away;  V.  i.  58. 
Maxes,  does;  I.  ii.  49. 
Mammering,     hesitating;  (Ff., 

Qq.   2,   3,   "  mam' ring3' ;   Q.  1, 

"muttering"'    (Johnson,  "mum- 

me  ring'') ;  III.  iii.  70. 
Max.  wield;  V.  ii.  270. 
Manage,  set  on  foot;  II.  iii.  218. 
Mandragora,  mandrake,  a  plant 

supposed  to  induce  sleep;  III. 

iii.  330. 
Make,  crest ;  II.  i.  13. 
Manifest,  reveal;  I.  ii.  32. 
Marble,  (?)  everlasting;  III.  iii. 

460. 

Mass:  "by  the  mass,"  an  oath; 
(Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "Introth";  F.  4, 
"In  troth/') ;  II.  iii.  393. 

Master,  captain;  II.  i.  214. 

May,  can;  V.  i.  78. 

Mazzard,  head;  II.  iii.  158. 

Me;  "whip  me,"  whip;  (me  ethic 
dative)  ;  I.  i.  49. 

Mean,  means;  III.  i.  39. 

Meet,  seemly,  becoming;  I.  i.  147. 

Mere,  utter,  absolute;  II.  ii.  3. 

HmiOK,  a  spoilt  darling;  V.  i.  33. 

Mischance,  misfortune;  V.  i.  38. 

Mock,  ridicule;  I.  ii.  69. 


Modern,  common-place;  I.  iii. 
109. 

Moe,  more;  IV.  iii.  57. 
Molestation,  disturbance;  II.  i. 
16. 

Monstrous,  (trisyllabic) ;  (Capell, 
"monsterous")  ;  II.  iii.  220. 

Moons,  months;  I.  iii.  84. 

Moorship's,  (formed  on  analogy 
of  worship;  Q.  1  reads  "Wor- 
ship's") ;  I.  i.  33. 

Moraler,  moralizer;  II.  iii.  307. 

Mortal,  deadly;  II.  i.  72. 

 ,  fatal;  V.*  ii.  205. 

Mortise,  "a  hole  made  in  timber 
to  receive  the  tenon  of  another 
piece  of  timber") ;  II.  i.  9. 

Moth,  "an  idle  eater";  I.  iii.  258. 

Motion,  impulse,  emotion;  L  iii. 
95. 

 ,  natural  impulse;  I.  ii.  75. 

Mountebanks,  quacks;  I.  iii.  61. 

Mummy,  a  preparation  used  for 
magical, — as  well  as  medicinal, 
— purposes,  made  originally 
from  mummies;  III.  iv.  74. 

Mutualities,  familiarities;  II.  i. 
274. 

Mystery,   trade,   craft;    IV.  ii. 

30. 

Naked,  unarmed;  V.  ii.  258. 
Napkin,   handkerchief;    III.  iii. 
287. 

Native,  natural,  real;  I.  i.  62. 
New,   fresh;    (Qq.,   "more");  I. 

iii.  205. 
Next,  nearest;  I.  iii.  205. 
North,  north  wind;  V.  ii.  220. 
Notorious,    notable,    egregious ; 

IV.  ii.  140. 
Nuptial,  wedding;   (Qq.,  "Xup- 

tialis")  ;  II.  ii.  8. 


Obscure,  abstruse;  II.  i.  270. 


170 


THE  MOOR 


Glossary 


Observancy,  homage;  III.  iv. 
146. 

Odd-even,  probably  the  interval 
between  twelve  o'clock  at  night 
and  one  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing; Li.  125. 

Odds,  quarrel;  II.  iii.  188. 

Off,  away;  V.  ii.  331. 

Off-capp'd,  doffed  their  caps,  sa- 
luted; (Qq.,  "oft  capt");  I.  i. 
10. 

Offends,  hurts,  pains;  II.  iii. 
202. 

Office,  duty;  (Q.  1,  "duty"); 
III.  iv.  110. 

Officed,  having  a  special  func- 
tion; I.  iii.  272. 

Offices,  domestic  offices,  where 
food  and  drink  were  kept;  II. 
ii.  10. 

Old,  time-honored  system;  I.  i. 
37. 

Ok,  at;  II.  iii.  135. 

On't,  of  it;  II.  i.  30. 

Opinion,  public  opinion,  reputa- 
tion; II.  iii.  198. 

Opposite,  opposed;  I.  ii.  67. 

Other,  otherwise;  IV.  ii.  13. 

Ottomites,  Ottomans;  I.  iii.  33. 

Out-tongue,  bear  down;  I.  ii.  19. 

Overt;  "o.  test,"  open  proofs; 
I.  iii.  107. 

Owe,  own;  I.  i.  66. 

Owedst,  didst  own;  III.  iii.  333. 

Paddle,  play,  toy;  II.  i.  266. 
Pageant,  show,  pretense;  I.  iii. 
18. 

Paragons,  excels,  surpasses;  II. 
i.  62. 

Parcels,  parts,  portions;  I.  iii. 
154. 

Partially,    with    undue  favor; 

(Qq.  "partiality")  ;  II.  iii.  221. 
Parts,  gifts;  III.  iii.  264. 


Passage,  people  passing;  V.  '.  37. 
Passing,  surpassingly;  I.  iii.  16G. 
Patent,  privilege;  IV.  i.  209. 
Patience,    (trisyllabic) ;   II.  iii. 
385. 

Peculiar,  personal;  III.  iii.  79. 
Peevish,  childish,  silly;   II.  iii. 
188. 

Pegs,  "the  pins  of  an  instrument 
on  which  the  strings  are  fas- 
tened"; II.  i.  205. 

Perdurable,  durable,  lasting;  I. 
iii.  345. 

Period,  ending;  V.  ii.  357. 

Pestilence,  poison;  II.  iii.  370. 

Pierced,  penetrated;  I.  iii.  219. 

Pioners,  pioneers,  the  commonest 
soldiers,  employed  for  rough, 
hard  work,  such  as  leveling 
roads,  forming  mines,  etc.;  III. 
iii.  346. 

Pleasance,   pleasure ;  (Qq., 

"pleasure") ;  II.  iii.  299. 
Pliant,  convenient;  I.  iii.  151. 
Plume  up,  make  to  triumph;  (Q. 

1,  "make  up");  I.  iii.  405. 
Poise,  weight;  III.  iii.  82. 
Pontic  sea,  Euxine  or  Black  Sea; 

III.  iii.  453. 
Portance,  conduct;  I.  iii.  139. 
Position,  positive  assertion;  III. 

iii.  234. 

P  o  s  t-p  o  s  t-h  a  s  t  e,  very  great 

haste;  I.  iii.  46. 
Pottle -deep,  to  the  bottom  of  the 

tankard,    a    measure   of  two 

quarts;  II.  iii.  57. 
Practice,  plotting;  III.  iv.  138.  . 
Precious,  used  ironically;  (Qq.  2, 

3,  "pernitious")  ;  V.  ii.  235. 
Prefer,  promote;  II.  i.  294. 

 ,  show,  present;  I.  iii.  109. 

Preferment,  promotion;  I.  i.  36. 
Pregnant,  probable;  II.  i.  245. 
Presently,  immediately;  III.  j. 

38. 


I 


Glossary 


OTHELLO 


Prick'd,  incited,  spurred;  III.  iii. 
412. 

Probal,  probable,  reasonable;  II, 
iii.  352. 

Probation,  proof;  III.  iii.  365. 
Profane,  coarse,  irreverent;  II. 
i.  167. 

Profit,  profitable  lesson;  III.  iii. 
379. 

Proof;    "made   p.",   test,  make 

trial;  V.  i.  26. 
Proper,  own;  I.  iii.  69. 

 ,  handsome;  I.  iii.  404. 

Propontic,  the  Sea  of  Marmora; 

TIL  iii.  456. 
Propose,  speak;  I.  i.  25. 
Propriety;  "from  her  p.",  out  of 

herself;  II.  iii.  179. 
Prosperity,  success;  II.  i.  297. 
Prosperous,  propitious;  I.  iii.  246. 
Puddled,  muddled;  III.  iv.  140. 
Purse,  wrinkle,  frown;  III.  iii. 

113. 

Put  on,  incite,  instigate;  II.  iii. 
365. 

Qualification,  appeasement;  II. 
i.  290. 

Qualified,  diluted;  II.  iii.  42. 

Quality;  "very  q.",  i.  e.  very  na- 
ture; I.  iii.  253. 

Quarter;  "in  q.",  in  peace, 
friendship;  II.  iii.  183. 

Quat,  pistule,  pimple  (used  con- 
temptuously); (Q.  1,  "gnat"; 
Theobald,  "knot;'  etc.);  V.  i. 
11. 

Question,  trial  and  decision  by 
force  of  arms;  I.  iii.  23. 

Quests,  bodies  of  searchers;  I.  ii. 
46. 

Quicken,  receive  life;  III.  iii. 
•  277. 

Quillets,  quibbles;  III.  i,  25. 
Quirks,  shallow  conceits;  II.  i. 
63, 

1 


Raised  up,  awakened;  II.  iii.  250. 
Rank,  coarse;  II.  i.  315. 

 ,  lustful  (  ?  morbid)  ;  III.  iii. 

232. 

Recognizance,  token;  V.  ii.  214. 

Reconciliation,  restoration  to 
favor;  III.  iii.  47. 

Reference,  assignment;  (Q.  1, 
"reuerence" ;  Ff.  3,  4,  "rever- 
ence"; Johnson  conj.  "prefer- 
ence"); I.  iii.  239. 

Regard,  view;  II.  i.  40. 

Region,  part;  IV.  i.  85. 

Relume,  rekindle;  V.  ii.  13. 

Remorse,  pity,  compassion;  III, 
iii.  369. 

Remove,  banish;  IV.  ii.  14. 

Repeals,  recalls  to  favor;  II.  iii. 
371. 

Reprobation,  perdition,  damna- 
tion; (Ff.,  "Beprobance") ;  V. 

ii.  209. 

Reserves,  keeps;  III.  iii.  295. 
Respect,  notice;  IV.  ii.  193. 
Re-stem,  retrace;  I.  iii.  37. 
Revolt,  inconstancy;  III.  iii.  188. 
Rich,  valuable,  precious;  II.  iii. 
198. 

Roman  (used  ironically) ;  IV.  i. 
120. 

Round,  straightforward,  plain;  I. 

iii.  90. 

Rouse,  bumper,  full  measure;  II. 
iii.  67. 

Rude,  harsh;  III.  iii.  355. 
Ruffian' d,   been  boisterous, 
raged;  II.  i.  7. 


Sadly,  sorrowfully;  II.  i.  32. 
Safe,  sound;  IV.  i.  279. 
Sagittary,  a  public  building  in 

Venice;  I.  i.  160. 
Salt,  lustful;  II.  i.  251. 
Sans,  without;  I.  iii.  64. 
'Sblood,  a  corruption  of  God's 

72 


THE  MOOR 


Glossary 


blood;  an  oath  (the  reading  of 
Q.  1;  omitted  in  others);  I.  i. 
4. 

Scant,  neglect;  I.  iii.  269. 
'Scapes,  escapes;  I.  iii.  136. 
Scattering,  random;  III.  iii.  151. 
Scion,    slip,    off-shoot;  (Qq., 

"syen";   Ff.  "Seyen");   I.  iii. 

339. 

Scored  me,  "made  my  reckoning, 
settled  the  term  of  my  life" 
(Johnson,  Schmidt),  "branded 
me"  (Steevens,  Clarke) ;  IV.  i. 
128. 

Scorns,  expressions  of  scorn;  IV. 
i.  84. 

Seamy  side  without,  wrong  side 

out;  IV.  ii.  146. 
Sect,  cutting,  scion;  I.  iii.  339. 
Secure,  free  from  care;  IV.  i.  73. 
Secure  me,  feel  myself  secure;  I. 

iii.  10. 

Seel,  blind  (originally  a  term  in 

falconry)  ;  I.  iii.  271. 
Seeming,  appearance,  exterior;  I. 

iii.  109. 

 ,  hypocrisy ;  III.  iii.  209. 

Segregation,  dispersion;  II.  i.  10. 
Self-bounty,  "inherent  kindness 

and  benevolence";  III.  iii.  200. 
Self-charity,   charity   to  one's 

self;  II.  iii.  205. 
Se'nnight's,    seven    night's,  a 

week's;  II.  i.  77. 
Sense,  feeling;  (Qq.,  "offence") ; 

II.  iii.  272. 
 ,  "to  the  s.",  i.  e.  "to  the 

quick";  V.  i.  11. 
Sequent,  successive;  I.  ii.  41. 
Sequester,  sequestration;  III.  iv. 

40. 

Sequestration,  rupture,  divorce; 

I.  iii.  354. 
Shore,  did  cut;  V.  ii.  206. 
Should,  could;  III.  iv.  23. 
Shbewd,  bad,  evil;  III.  iii.  429. 


Shrift,  shriving  place,  confes- 
sional; III.  iii.  24. 

Shut  up  in,  confine  to;  III.  iv. 
118. 

Sibyl,  prophetess;  III.  iv.  70. 
Siege,  rank,  place;  1.  ii.  22. 
Simpleness,  simplicity;  I.  iii.  248. 
Sir;  "play  the  s.",  play  the  fine 

gentleman;  II.  i.  178. 
Sith,  since;  (Qq.,  "since")  ;  III. 

iii.  380. 

Skillet,  boiler,  kettle;  I.  iii.  274. 
Slight,  worthless,  frivolous;  II. 

iii.  284. 
Slipper,  slippery;  II.  i.  252. 
Slubber,  sully,  soil;  I.  iii.  228. 
Snipe,  simpleton;  (F.  1,  "Snpe" ; 

F.  2,  "a  Swaine";  Ff.  3,  4,  "a 

Swain");  I.  iii.  397. 
Snorting,  snoring;  I.  i.  90. 
Soft,  mild,  gentle;  I.  iii.  82. 
Soft  you,  hold;  V.  ii.  338. 
Something,    somewhat;    II.  iii. 

202. 

Sorry,  painful;  (Qq.,  "sullen"; 
Collier  MS.,  "sudden")  ;  III.  iv. 
51. 

Spake,  said,  affirmed;  (Q.  3, 
"speake")  ;  V.  ii.  327. 

Spartan  dog,  the  dogs  of  Spar- 
tan breed  were  fiercest;  V.  ii. 
361. 

Speak  i'  the  nose,  "the  Neapoli- 
tans have  a  singularly  drawl- 
ing nasal  twang  in  the 
utterance  of  their  dialect;  and 
Shylock  tells  of  "when  the  bag- 
pipe sings  i'  the  nose" 
(Clarke);  (Collier  MS., 
"squeak";  etc.)  ;  III.  i.  5. 

Speak  parrot,  talk  nonsense;  II. 
iii.  286. 

Speculative,  possessing  the 
power  of  seeing;  I.  iii.  272. 

Spend,  waste,  squander;  II.  iii. 
198. 


Glossary 


OTHELLO 


Spleen,  choler,  anger;  IV.  i.  90. 
Splinter,  secure  by  splints;  II. 
iii.  336. 

Squire,  fellow;  (used  contemptu- 
ously) ;  IV.  ii.  145. 

Stand  in  act,  are  in  action;  I.  i. 
153. 

Start,  startle,  rouse;  I.  i.  101. 
Startingly,  abruptly;  (Ff.  3,  4, 

"  staring  ly") ;  III.  iv.  79. 
Stay,  are  waiting  for;  IV.  ii.  170. 
Stead,  benefit,  help;  I.  iii.  347. 
Still,  often,  now  and  again;  I. 

iii.  147. 

Stomach,  appetite;  V.  ii.  75. 
Stop;  "your  s.",  the  impediment 

you  can  place  in  my  way;  V. 

ii.  264. 

Stoup,  a  vessel  for  holding  li- 
quor; II,  iii.  31. 

Stow'd,  bestowed,  placed;  I.  ii. 
62. 

Straight,  straightway;  I.  i.  139. 
Strain,  urge,  press;  III.  iii.  250. 
Strangeness,  estrangement;  (Qq. 

''strangest") ;  III.  iii.  12. 
Stuff  o'  the  conscience,  matter 

of  conscience;  I.  ii.  2. 
Subdued,   made  subject;    I.  iii. 

252. 

Success,  that  which  follows,  con- 
sequence; III.  iii.  222. 

Sudden,  quick,  hasty;  II.  i.  287. 

Sufferance,  damage,  loss;  II.  i. 
23. 

Sufficiency,  ability;  I.  iii.  225. 
Sufficient,  able;  III.  iv.  90. 
Suggest,  tempt;  II.  iii.  366. 
Supersubtle,  excessively  crafty; 
(Collier  MS.,  "super-supple")  ; 

I.  iii.  367. 

Sweeting,  a  term  of  endearment; 

II.  iii.  255. 

Swelling,  inflated;  II.  iii.  58. 
Sword  of  Spain  ;  Spanish  swords 


were  celebrated  for  their  ex- 
cellence; V.  ii.  253. 

Ta'en  order,  taken  measures;  V. 

ii.  72. 

Ta'en  out,  copied;  III.  iii.  296. 
Tainting,  disparaging;  II.  i.  283. 
Take  out,  copy;  III.  iv.  177. 
Tare  up  at  the  best,  make  the 

best  of;  I.  iii.  173. 
Talk,  talk  nonsense;  IV.  iii.  25. 
Talk  me,  speak  to  me;  III.  iv. 

91. 

Tells  o'er,  counts;  III.  iii.  169. 
Theoric,  theory;  I.  i.  24. 
Thick-lips;  used  contemptuously 

for  "Africans";  I.  i.  66. 
Thin,  slight,  easily  seen  through; 

I.  iii.  108. 
Thread,  thread  of  life;  V.  ii. 

206. 

Thrice-driven,  "referring  to  the 
selection  of  the  feathers  by 
driving  with  a  fan,  to  separate 
the  light  from  the  heavy" 
(Johnson);  I.  iii.  233. 

Thrive  in,  succeed  in  gaining;  I. 

iii.  125. 

Time,  life;  I.  i.  163. 
Timorous,  full  of  fear;  I.  i.  75. 
Tire,  make  tired,  weary  out;  II. 
i.  65. 

Toged,  wearing  the  toga;  I.  i.  25. 
Told,  struck,  counted;  (Ff.  3,  4, 

"toll'd")  ;  II.  ii.  12. 
Toy,  fancy;  III.  iv.  153. 
Toys,  trifles;  I.  iii.  270. 
Trash,  worthless  thing,  dross;  II. 

i.  320. 

 ,  keep  back,  hold  in  check,  (a 

hunter's  term) ;  II.  i.  320. 

Traverse,  march,  go  on;  I.  iii. 
384. 

Trimm'd  in,  dressed  in,  wearing; 
I.  i.  50. 


174 


THE  MOOR 


Glossary 


Tukn,;  "t.  thy  complexion," 
change  color;  IV.  ii.  62. 

Unblest,  accursed;  II.  iii.  317. 
Unbonneted,  without  taking  off 

the  cap,  on  equal  terms;  I.  ii. 

23. 

Unbookish,  ignorant;  IV.  i.  103. 
Uncap  able,    incapable;    IV.  ii. 
238. 

Undertaker;  "his  u.",  take 

charge  of  him,  dispatch  him; 

IV.  i.  223. 
Unfold,  reveal,  bring  to  light; 

IV.  ii.  141. 
Unfolding,    communication;  I. 

iii.  24G. 

Unhandso3ie,  unfair;  III.  iv. 
148. 

Unhatch'd,  undisclosed;  III.  iv. 
138. 

Unhoused,  homeless,  not  tied  to 
a  household  and  family;  I.  ii. 
26. 

Unlace,  degrade;  II.  iii.  197. 
Unpeiifectness,  imperfection;  II. 
iii.  304. 

Unpbovide,  make  unprepared ; 
IV.  i.  217. 

Unsure,  uncertain;  III.  iii.  151. 

Unvarnish'u,  plain,  unadorned; 
I.  iii.  90. 

Unwitted,  deprived  of  under- 
standing; II.  iii.  18,' 

Upon,  incited  by,  urged  by;  I.  i. 
100. 

Use,  custom;  IV.  i.  284. 
Uses,    manners,   habits;    (Q.  1, 
"vsage") ;  IV.  iii.  106. 

Vantage;  "to  the  v.",  over  and 

above;  IV.  iii.  86. 
Vessel,  body;  IV.  ii.  83. 
Vesture,  garment;  II.  i.  64. 
Violence,  bold  action;  I.  iii.  251. 


Virtuous,  having  efficacy,  powers 

ful;  III.  iv.  108. 
Voices,  votes;  I.  iii.  262. 
Vouch,  assert,  maintain;  I.  iii. 

103,  106. 

 ,  bear  witness;  I.  iii.  26^. 

 ,  testimony;  II.  i.  150. 

Wage,  venture,  attempt;  I.  iii.  30. 
Watch,  watchman;  V.  i.  37. 
Watch    him,    keep    him  from 

sleeping;  a  term  in  falconry; 

III.  iii.  23. 
Wearing,  clothes;  IV.  iii.  16. 
Well  said,  well  done;  (Qq.,  "well 

sed")  ;  II.  i.  171. 
What,  who;  I.  i.  18. 
Wheeling,    errant ;    (Q.  2, 

"wheedling")-,  I.  i.  138. 
Whipster,   one  who   whips  out 

his  sword;    (used  contemptu- 
ously) ;  V.  ii.  244. 
White,  (used  with  a  play  upon 

white  and  wight)  ;  II.  i.  134. 
Wholesome,  reasonable;   III.  i. 

49. 

Wicker,  covered  with  wicker- 
work;  (Ff.  "Twiggen");  II.  iii. 
155. 

Wight,  person;  (applied  to  both 
sexes)  ;  II.  i.  161. 

Wind;  "let  her  down  the  w."; 
"the  falconers  always  let  the 
hawk  fly  against  the  wind;  if 
she  flies  with  the  wind  behind 
her  she  seldom  returns.  If 
therefore  a  hawk  was  for  any 
reason  to  be  dismissed,  she  was 
let  down  the  wind,  and  from 
that  time  shifted  for  herself 
and  preyed  at  fortune"  (John- 
son) ;  III.  iii.  262. 

Wind-shaked,  wind-shaken;  II.  i. 
13. 

With,  by;  II.  i.  34. 

Withal,  with;  I.  iii.  93. 

With  all  my  heart,  used  both 


Glossary 


OTHELLO 


as  a  salutation,  and  also  as  a 
reply  to  a  salutation;  IV.  i. 
228. 

Within  door;  "speak  w.  d.",  i.  e. 
"not  so  loud  as  to  be  heard 
outside  the  house";  IV.  ii.  144. 

Woman'd,  accompanied  by  a 
woman;  III.  iv.  192. 

Worser,  worse;  I.  i.  95. 


Wrench,      wrest;      (Q.  1, 

"Wring")  ;  V.  ii.  288. 
Wretch,  a  term  of  endearment; 

(Theobald,  "wench");  III.  iii. 

90. 

Wrought,  worked  upon;  V.  ii. 
345. 

Yerk'd,  thrust;  I.  ii.  5. 

Yet,  as  yet,  till  now;  III.  iii.  432. 


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